#rub-the-rest-with-yellow

[clearallcathy]

being self obsessed is fun if you do it in the fun way and its not hard to do it. i can be entertained by looking at colors and images and thjnking oh i would look cute wearing this for very long periods of time but i can also recognize that other people are humans. and all it takes is minimal self control and observational skill. whattt im not vaguing any individuals i interact with on a regular basis i would never do this

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: this was a commissioned werewolf piece, it’s 1.2k words long!

Everyone warned you that being out late at night was dangerous, but you never listened… and that would end up costing you in the end.

You had trouble sleeping, and in your earlier years, you despised how long and lonely each night could be… but now that you lived on your own, that changed.

The night was special to you. It was a time where everyone else was asleep and you could really let loose. Some nights you’d listen to music until morning, or maybe binge a show you had been putting off for months.

Though, others you left the safety of your little home and wandered into the woods.

It was well past your usual bedtime when you decided to get some fresh air. You felt cooped up in your room, and even after pacing and trying to find something to do in your house, nothing caught your interest.

You already tried masturbating to help you sleep, but it didn’t work. Now your pussy was wet and aching, and you didn’t even get to cum. There was only one other way to get yourself to rest…

The forest was calling to you, luring you out with the promise of adventure and crisp air that could clear your mind and lull you to sleep.

Usually you wouldn’t mind being up all night, but tomorrow you had to be up early for work. Most days you went in after lunch at the earliest, but one of your coworkers was sick with the flu and asked you to cover his shift.

Although you wanted to decline and sleep in, he had saved your ass a few times already and you owed him.

So, you put on your sneakers and a coat before grabbing a flashlight and leaving the safety of your home.

Everything about the forest felt comfortable and familiar. The crunch of leaves under your feet, the soft sounds of creatures scurrying from tree to tree, and even the wind made your tension ease.

For a while, you felt at peace…

Then, you tended up. Something was watching you from afar, and you could feel someone’s stare burning into the back of your head.

When you turned to see who was there, you didn’t spot anyone. You waved your arm, your flashlight’s beam moving over rocks and trees… before something glinted in a bush about 20 feet away.

It was an animal’s eyes, and whatever it was, you could tell it was huge.

For a moment you gazed on in horror, your eyes wide and hand trembling. The creature met your gaze, and that’s when it stepped forward.

You didn’t even notice you dropped your flashlight until after you were sprinting through the dark forest, tripping over a branch and scrambling to get back up. Thorns scraped your knees and arms, making you cry out in fear.

You could hear it behind you, panting and letting out a low growl. You caught sight of its yellow eyes and sharp fangs.

It looked to be some kind of wolf standing on its hind legs, but you didn’t stop to examine it thoroughly, you were running for your life.

But you weren’t fast enough.

The creature could see in the dark, and you couldn’t. Every time you tripped or stumbled you were slowed down, and eventually it was on top of you.

You cried out as you felt its large claws circle around your arms, pinning you against the ground. It hovered over you, panting from either excitement or fatigue, you couldn’t tell which.

Now that it had you in its grasp, you were able to get a good look at its appearance.

The creature was nearly twice your size, his gray fur bristled and wolf ears twitching as drool dripped from its sharp toothed maw.

All you could do was tremble and cry. This was the end, you hadn’t listened to your loved ones’ advice and now you were looking death in the face.

Hopefully it would be over quickly…

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away from it… but instead of it attacking, you felt something… hard and wet rubbing against your thigh.

For a few seconds you kept your eyes closed, but they shot open when you felt one of its large, paw-like hands roughly grope your clothed cunt as its tail thumped behind it.

It was sniffing you, licking at your neck where your scent was most prominent. His fluffy wolf ears were flicking as he kept pawing at your pussy, as if trying to arouse you so he could smell more of that delicious aroma.

His teeth weren’t used to tear your flesh and eat you alive… instead he bit your shirt and tore it off, his tongue lapping at your bare breasts.

This thing didn’t want to eat you… he wanted to mate! It must have smelled the slick still on your panties and cunt from earlier!

If you played along, maybe you’d get home safely after all!

You could tell the poor thing was struggling by the way he let out pathetic whines as his cock bobbed needily. To help it out, you guided his hands to your breasts.

“Play with these, okay?”

His ears perked up and his tail picked up speed as he groped and kneaded your tits, his yellow eyes following the way they bounced and squished together. While he did that, you pulled down your pants and panties.

Honestly, you were aroused, embarrassingly so. He could smell it, immediately going to bury his face into your cunt the second he caught your scent.

“Th-that’s it-“ you blubbered out. He was inexperienced and rough, but his tongue was so big that it rubbed against your clit every time anyway. It was clear that he was desperate to mate, but couldn’t stop himself from tasting you first.

Before you could cum, he pulled back, his fat cock shoving itself unceremoniously inside of you. Fortunately you were just wet enough so it didn’t break you, but the stretch was painful and uncomfortable.

His hips slapped against yours as he mounted you, his hands gripping your soft flesh so tightly you could hardly bear it. The feeling of his nails digging into your hips hurt… but also added to the pleasure.

He was hitting your gspot, making your pussy clench around him as you had your first orgasm of the night.

The thrusts were going at an animalistic pace, and when your knees gave out he lifted you up and bounced you on his cock.

You felt your belly bulge, he was absolutely huge and was bottoming out inside of you. Suddenly his cock began to expand, and you realized too late that he was knotting you.

Your womb was stuffed full of his cum, and he howled at the full moon as his thick ropes of cum spurted into you, painting your walls white.

The werewolf let out a sigh, his knot keeping you connected to him as he calmed down. He was so relaxed and happy after his orgasm, licking your head affectionately and curling up around you.

It looked like you weren’t going to be able to cover for your coworker tomorrow… not when the werewolf was following you home for round two.

“Don’t wolves mate for life..?” you questioned yourself aloud, looking back at the werewolf as he followed behind you like a loyal puppy.

You’d have to find that out later… all you wanted to do was sleep after that experience.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[jaysbaefie]

your honour | psh

synopsis: in which you push the judge too far, you learn that actions have consequences—and he always delivers the sentence himself.

genre: judge au

pairing: judge!sunghoon x troubled!reader

warnings: meandom!sunghoon, cold!sunghoon, horndog!reader, manhandling, cornering, degrading (holy fuck sm degrading), crazy dirty talk, gagging with fingers, hair pulling, choking, biting, spanking ass + pussy, rough p in v (unprotected), clit rubbing, creampie, bondage, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial and no aftercare. think that’s it…

wc: 6.3k

a/n: this is so filthy!!! yall im on a plot burnout i have so many ideas i just can’t bring myself to write a proper full length fic :[ anyways… notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy <3

═══════

your arms are crossed over your chest like armor. it's not foolproof—your wrists are still cuffed, and the bruises from last week's chase are still turning the edges of your skin a dull yellow with splotches of blue. you hold yourself steady anyway, like you've already survived worse.

you have.

the courtroom is too quiet for your taste. sterile walls, tired faces, and that rusted old flag in the corner drooping like it's had one too many years of watching justice be handed out unevenly.

there's a bailiff at your side, fingers twitching near their belt, as if they think you might leap over the railing and bolt. you don't blame them. you've done worse for less serious crimes.

but right now, you're not thinking about running—not even close.

you're staring straight at him.

park sunghoon.

honorable judge. esteemed in the district. untouchable. 'not for long,' you think to yourself, a small smirk gracing your lips as you hold your gaze.

his nameplate gleams under the artificial lighting, but it's not as cold as the look in his eyes when he glances down at you. black rob, pale hands, pristine posture like he's never once had a bad day, or at least never shown it.

he speaks your name like it tastes bitter in his mouth, his plump lips pursing in distaste.

"theft. trespassing. property damage," sunghoon reads, flipping through the paperwork like it's boring him. "and now contempt of court. again."

your smirk is the only weapon you have left, "that one wasn't on purpose."

his gaze doesn't flinch, "you were caught lighting a cigarette in the bathroom during recess."

"wasn't lit," you say coolly, his gaze now piercing into you. "i didn't even get to spark it," you almost whine out.

"because the officer stopped you."

"because the lighter was out of fluid," you shoot back, offended that he'd think that you'd let some officer stop you from lighting a spark.

for a moment, you think you see something twitch in the corner of his mouth—amusement? disbelief? but it's gone before it settles. he leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, voice clipped, "you don't seem to take this seriously."

you stare him down, your eyebrows raised, "you don't seem to live in the same world as the rest of us."

sunghoon says nothing at first, just studies you, eyes narrowing the longer the silence drags. he looks at you like you're a puzzle he didn't expect to come across and now he's trying to decide whether to solve you or break you apart and pack you away.

finally, he speaks, "given the repeated offences and your inability to cooperate with court proceedings, you are hereby found guilty."

your chest tightens—not because you're surprised. you knew this was coming, it was always going to come to this.

"you're to pay a fine of $5,000"

you snort, loud and messy which causes sunghoon to look at you with what you could only assume was disgust, "you might as well say 5 million. i don't have shit, your honour." your voice drips with mockery on that last part, but it's not like you can help it. titles mean nothing to people like you. not when the system's always rigged the same way.

sunghoon doesn't react the way you expect. no fury, no raised voice. instead, he rests his chin against his hand and stares down at you, thoughtful, composed—calculating.

"then perhaps we can make alternate arrangements."

you narrow your eyes. "like what? community service? sweeping the courthouse floors?" you had heard it all before, and you'd be damned if you did any of it.

he ignores your sarcasm. "i'm offering you a deal." you don't trust deals, especially not from men like him. but you're listening.

"you're clearly resourceful. difficult, but clever." his eyes scan your face like he's making a mental file, "if you truly cannot pay, then you'll work it off. under my supervision."

you blink up at him, dumbfounded, "what?"

sunghoon doesn't smile, doesn't even shift, "you'll report here. every morning, 6 am sharp. you'll handle clerical tasks, sorting files, transcriptions. menial work, mostly. i'll be watching."

you lean forward, just a little. "and if i say no?"

his voice is ice cold, "then you'll serve time."

you flinch at that, prison isn't unfamiliar—but it's worse this time. you're older now, tired and you know the kind of people they throw you in with.

your jaw clenches, "this some kind of power trip for you?"

his eyes glint, unreadable. "no. but it might be one for you. if you can handle being civil."

you hate him for that. for the way his words crawl under your skin, settle in your ribs like they belong there. you hate him for being calm, for not flinching when you push back. for the way he makes you feel cornered even when you're standing tall.

"fine," you spit. "i'll take your little deal."

sunghoon nods, finally. bangs the gavel once sending shocks through your body.

"court adjourned."

but as you're escorted out, you catch the way he watches you. slow, deliberate. like he's already plotting what to do with a fire like yours.

and you know this is far from over.

═══════

6 am comes fast, you show up at 6:17am.

your boots echo too loud on the marble floors of the courthouse as you stroll in like you own the place. hoodie unzipped, hands in your pockets, chewing gum with all the arrogance of someone who knows they're untouchable—or just wants to see how far they can push before they aren't.

sunghoon is already waiting, of course. seated behind his desk in his chambers, reading over a case file, all rigid posture and starched cuffs. he doesn't look up when you enter, but you feel the chill in the air shift the moment he registers your presence.

you lean against the doorframe, pop your gum, and smile sweetly, "morning, your honour."

he finally looks up, no smile—no greeting. just a flat, "you're late."

you shrug, "public transportation's a bitch. and my ankle monitor doesn't exactly come with wings."

sunghoon closes the file slowly, deliberately, "your sentence began at 6 am sharp. not whenever you decide to roll out of bed."

you wander further into his office, dragging your fingers across the edge of his polished desk. "well, maybe you should've sentenced me to something more exciting. i'd be more motivated to be punctual." you snicker softly, your fingers brushing against some books before landing on a small statue.

he doesn't rise, doesn't react. just watches you with that unreadable stare, like he's already dissecting your every move.

"sit."

you raise an eyebrow before looking around the room, no chair in sight, "where?"

he gestures with his pen to a wooden chair shoved against the back wall. no cushion. no wheels. no dignity.

you scoff, "wow. luxury accommodations."

"sit," he says again, this time lower—sharper.

you do—but not before you tip the chair slightly and drag it across the floor, the screech of wood against tile sounding loud and obnoxious. you plop down and swing your legs up onto the edge of his desk like it's your living room.

"so," you say, folding your arms behind your head. "what soul-crushing task do i get to do first? file your fan mail? shine your gavel?"

sunghoon doesn't flinch. doesn't blink. just reaches over and, without warning, shoves your boots off his desk with one smooth motion. hard enough to jolt the whole chair, causing you to hold onto the desk for support.

you laugh in surprise before masking it quickly with a silly remark, "ooh. touchy."

he leans forward now, voice calm but laced with threat, "i don't care how you've gotten away with things in the past. in this room, under my supervision, you follow."

"or what?" you bite, eyes narrowing. "you gonna slap another fine on me? lock me up again?"

"no," he murmurs, his eyes not leaving yours. "i'll break you without ever lifting a finger."

you go quiet for the first time because for some strange reason, you believe him.

but that doesn't mean you're going to make it easy.

by 10 am, you've misfiled at least four court documents on purpose, accidentally-on-purpose spilled coffee on one, and whistled a highly inappropriate tune every time someone passes the open door.

sunghoon doesn't snap. he doesn't yell, but the tightness in his jaw gets worse. his sleeves are rolled to his elbows now, veins taut, hand gripped around his pen like he's imagining stabbing something with it. you allow your gaze to wander over him, relishing in his cold presence as you eye-fuck him to oblivion. 

you stretch lazily in your seat across the room, flipping through a file upside down just to be difficult.

"you always this fun at parties?" you ask, eyes lazily scanning the document. 

"you always this exhausting when you're sober?"

you grin, "you should've sentenced me to something harder. i get off on discipline."

he finally looks up. eyes dark and voice low.

"is that what this is? acting out so someone will finally put you in your place?"

you blink, not expecting that.

sunghoon stands now, slow and deliberate, and crosses the room to tower over where you're still slouched in your chair. he leans down just enough to make your breath hitch, his minty fresh cologne invading your senses—sending your body into overdrive. 

"you want someone to punish you, is that it?" he says, voice barely above a whisper. "because you're skating dangerously close to contempt again."

you swallow harshly but you hold the smirk, even if it's faltering, "you threatening me, your honour?"

his lips twitch, not a smile—something colder.

"no," he says. "just waiting for you to slip. and when you do—when all that bratty bravado cracks, you'll beg for someone like me to be the one holding the leash."

your throat goes dry.

he straightens and turns away, already done with you for the moment, and you're left there blinking like the ground shifted under your feet.

this was supposed to be fun. a game.

but now? now you think he's playing back.

and he plays dirty.

═══════

you should've gone home.

you were dismissed hours ago. the office lights are off, most of the staff gone, echoing laughter and jangling keys disappearing down the hallway.

but you stayed.

because you wanted to see what would happen if you crossed the line, alone—with him.

sunghoon's still in his chambers with his door cracked, light spilling out in a narrow slice across the floor. you lean in the doorway without knocking, arms folded, teeth sunk into the inside of your cheek just to keep from smiling too wide.

he doesn't look up.

"still working?" you ask, voice low and sugary.

he doesn't respond at first. then, without looking away from his file, "if you're still here, it's because you want something. so say it, and make it fast." you saunter in, drag your nails across his bookshelf, pull a file halfway out and shove it back in crooked just to be annoying, "just wanted to chat. you seem lonely."

his jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise—doesn't yell. instead, he sets his pen down, lifting his eyes to you slowly, deliberately—and lets out a low breath through his nose.

"you're a desperate little thing, aren't you?"

you blink, "excuse me?"

he stands.

you don't move. just watch him stalk forward, quiet, composed, eyes cutting into you like scalpels.

he stops inches from you, doesn't touch. doesn't lean in.

but his voice? razor-edged filth.

"you dress like a brat, talk like a slut, act out like a girl who's been begging for someone to spit in her mouth and call her worthless." your breath catches and your legs almost give out.

"you're not here to talk," he continues, voice lower, crueler. "you're here because no one's ever put you in your place and you're too much of a mess to admit you want it."

you flinch, lips parting, "you don't even know me—"

"i know everything," he cuts in sharply. "i've read your records. i've seen the trail of damage you leave behind just to get someone to notice you. daddy issues, authority issues, zero impulse control. you want men to hate you just so they'll finally touch you."

you gasp, cheeks flushing hot—but not with shame.

with need.

because he's right. because no one's ever talked to you like this.

"look at you," he sneers. "breathing heavy already, shifting your legs like you're not soaking through your little panties right now. you came in here thinking you could bait me with your bratty mouth, hoping i'd snap and pin you against the wall like some filthy fantasy you've cooked up in that head of yours."

you say nothing. you can't.

"but i'm not like the boys you fuck behind bars or in alleyways," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "i don't play with trash."

you whimper.

his smile is slow and cruel, "oh? that got you wet, didn't it?" your thighs squeeze together instinctively, and he laughs—cold, low, unamused.

"pathetic. dripping just from being spoken to like the little cum-dump you are."

you try to speak, but your mouth won't work. you're breathing too fast, too shallow, clit throbbing through your jeans, nipples hard under your hoodie, and he hasn't even touched you.

he leans in, barely. his cool breath fanned against your ear causing you to shiver, "you'll come back tomorrow, won't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "all sweet and mouthy again, hoping this is the day I finally bend you over my desk and fuck your brains out like the filthy little whore you pretend not to be."

you whine—a soft, needy sound that makes his eyes darken just a little.

then he pulls back, his hands stay folded behind him. he steps past you, calm as ever, voice low and bored. "go home. you're dripping on my floor."

═══════

you start showing up on time.

5:59 am, hair damp from a rushed shower, hoodie half-zipped, eyes sharp with purpose. you slide into the office like you own the place—and every day, you find him already there, perfect as ever. sleeves rolled up, tie tight, reading over a file like he didn't just spend the last twelve hours thinking about the way you moaned for him without him even touching you.

you don't speak much now, you don't have to.

the first time it happens, it's barely a whisper of a moment—you walk past him to grab a stack of paperwork, and your hip brushes his hand resting on the edge of the desk. soft. slow. deliberate. and you don't flinch, don't apologize.

you smile.

his pen halts mid-sentence.

you don't look back.

the second time, you lean in close to hand him a stapled report—closer than you need to, your fingers brushing over his when he takes it from you. you let your thumb drag just barely over his knuckle before pulling away.

he doesn't speak, but his jaw's clenched so tight you hear it pop.

the third time, it's worse. you're leaning over his desk, too far, pretending to scan the page while your hips subtly roll back, brushing against where he's standing behind you. it's slow—not full contact but just enough pressure to feel the line of his thigh brush your ass.

you feel him freeze. you breathe out, soft and sweet, "oops."

he doesn't move. doesn't even blink. you can feel his restraint like a second heat, burning against your skin.

you straighten up with a grin and saunter off and for the rest of the day, you can feel his eyes on your back like a loaded weapon.

═══════

you live for the control—the knowledge that you're the one unraveling him now. no chains, no cuffs, no cell. just you and your filthy little grin in his clean little world.

every time your hand lingers too long on his wrist when passing him a pen. every time your fingers brush his thigh when you "accidentally" drop a file. every time you stretch beside him, moaning faintly when you reach your arms overhead like you're trying to kill him with your spine alone.

he doesn't say a word.

not one curse, not one command. but every breath he takes feels heavier. every time he adjusts his cuffs, it's slower. rougher. the one time he looks at you, really looks, while you're standing by the window with the light catching your smug little smirk and you swear there's murder in his eyes.

or maybe lust, or both.

you bite your lip and wink.

he goes back to reading but his knuckles are white around the edge of the page.

you don't stop, of course you don't. you know he's cracking. you just want to see how far before he breaks.

═══════

you don't knock today.

you walk in like always—mouth full of gum, hair half done, smirk locked and loaded.

but the outfit? oh, this is new.

short skirt, barely mid-thigh. skin-tight, no stockings. no shame. 

your blouse clings to your chest with every breath, just one wrong move from spilling open—and you bend to pick up a file by the door the second you walk in, as if you didn't plan the whole motion.

you make sure your ass is pointed directly at his chair, you hear nothing for a beat. then the sound of a pen snapping in his hand.

you bite your lip to keep from smiling. "good morning, your honour," you say sweetly, rising slow, letting your tits bounce just enough. "got something for you to sign."

he doesn't answer. doesn't look up. he just sets the ruined pen down, stands in silence, and walks to the far cabinet—jaw sharp, back stiff.

he doesn't speak for an hour, but you don't stop.

you lean across the desk to file something, letting your breasts nearly spill out. you sit on the edge of the table too close, too comfortable, skirt hiked up high on your thighs. you cross and uncross your legs too slow. you sigh every time you shift, like the fabric's clinging to places it shouldn't.

and the worst part? you don't even look at him anymore.

you just know. you know he's watching. you feel his silence like a leash. and still, you test it.

again. and again.

until—

"shut the door." 

you freeze, glancing over to see that sunghoon's still behind the desk, hands folded, gaze pinned directly to your face for the first time all day.

there's no emotion in his tone, just something dark.

you step back slowly, click the door shut.

"lock it."

you do, your pulse skips.

he nods once toward the chair in front of his desk, "sit."

you obey—this time, no sass, no roll of the eyes. he watches you for a long, heavy moment. then: "stand up."

you blink, but you rise. he leans back in his chair, eyes raking over you with undisguised disgust. "this what you wear to court? no wonder you can't stay out of handcuffs."

you shiver when his voice drops an octave, "i've let you act out. walk around my office like it's a runway. rub your filthy little body against me like a dog in heat. but today?" his tongue clicks, "today, you came here begging."

you bite your lip and he notices. "don't even deny it," he sneers. "you dressed like a fucking pornstar and shoved your tits in my face three times before lunch."

you blink fast, thighs press together. "you want attention so bad," he whispers, voice cold and cruel. "you'd crawl under this desk and suck cock just to feel useful for once."

you whimper causing his eyes to narrow "pathetic."

you take a shaky step forward, voice too soft. "so do something about it."

"no." the word is a bullet. sharp. final. you flinch, "what?"

"i'm not giving you what you want," he says, standing now—towering over you, eyes blazing. "not until you ask." you swallow, your breath stutters, "...i just did—" "not like that," he leans in close, still not touching, his breath ghosting your cheek. "i want to hear you beg. properly. filthy. on your knees if you have to."

your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

"c'mon," he hisses. "say it. say you're a dirty little whore who wore this skirt just to get her judge to ruin her."

your knees go weak.

"say you've been dripping for me for weeks. say you need to be put in your place. beg me to spit in your mouth and call you mine." you nearly drop right there while he watches you—smug, furious, and impossibly composed.

"but you won't," he whispers. "because you're a coward. just a brat with no bite."

you snap, you sink to your knees with your palms on your thighs. skirt riding high, head tilted up with your tongue caught between your teeth.

"please," you whisper, cheeks hot. "i wore it for you. i wanted you to see what you've been missing. i wanted you to lose control. i wanted to feel owned. like a fucking toy." his nostrils flare and you crawl forward. "i've been dripping for you since the first time you called me worthless," you breathe out shamelessly. "you don't have to fuck me. just—just say i'm yours."

his hand twitches at his side but still he doesn't touch you, he just smiles—slow and dangerous. "you're finally learning," he murmurs. "maybe tomorrow i'll reward you."

and he walks out, leaves you on the floor—aching, wrecked and obedient.

═══════

you show up like nothing happened, tight dress, high heels and no bra. you don't even bring a file, you just lean against the edge of his desk like you're here to ruin him.

sunghoon doesn't look up, not right away. but when he does—it's over.

his eyes flick up to your chest, then back to your mouth, and the moment your lips part to say something smart, he moves.

fast.

the chair scrapes back with a violent screech. you barely have time to gasp before he grabs your wrist and slams you against the desk, stomach flat against the wood, cheek pressed down by the weight of his hand. you yelp, breath knocked out of you—but it's not pain. it's heat, flooding between your legs in a dizzying wave.

"this what you wanted?" sunghoon growls, voice raw at your ear. "me snapping like some animal? you filthy, needy, shameless little—fuck." he yanks your arms behind your back, pins both wrists with one big hand and grinds you into the desk. "look at you squirming and wet. couldn't go one more day without getting manhandled, huh?"

you whine out when his free hand slides up your spine, griping the back of your neck, forcing your head to the side so your cheek stays plastered to the wood. your eyes snap open in shock when he pushes his thick digits into your mouth, forcing your mouth full.

"you've been begging for this," he snarls. "dressing like a whore. moaning when i speak. bending over like you want to get fucked in front of the whole court." you can barely breathe—your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

he laughs—low and cruel, "what's wrong? mouth finally too full of regret?" he spreads your legs with his knee, lets his thigh press up between them while his grip on your wrists tightens.

you're soaked. dripping straight through your panties, probably smearing slick across his desk — and he feels it. his thigh twitches and he groans. "pathetic," he growls. "you're soaking my leg and i haven't even touched your cunt."

you whimper into the desk, legs trembling, thighs trying to grind down on his thigh—but he pulls it back with a smirk. "you think you run this game," he whispers in your ear. "you think a few bratty looks and slutty outfits make you powerful."

he yanks your head back by the hair and forces you to look at him—eyes wild, chest rising, jaw clenched.

"you don't run shit here." his fingers trail down your jaw, not gentle—gripping your face like he wants to crush it, "you're mine."

you blink fast. your lips part as he finally removes his fingers from your mouth.

"say it."

your voice shakes. "i'm—i'm yours."

"again."

"i'm yours."

"louder."

"i'm fucking yours," you scream—thighs shaking, cunt pulsing, wrists still pinned.

he stares down at you—flushed, dripping, ruined against his desk. then he leans in, lips just brushing your ear, "you're not cumming until i say so."

you whimper in response. "and when you do," he breathes, "you're gonna thank me for breaking you."

he steps back and lets you collapse to your knees.

undone.

and he leaves you there, again.

═══════

you should've ran.

the look on his face the second you step into his office—eyes cold, mouth tight, sleeves rolled up like he's about to sentence you to death, should've sent you crawling. 

but you don't run, you smirk—and that's all it takes. he grabs you before the door even clicks shut—slams you against it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other squeezing your throat until your breath stutters.

"tired of you strutting around like you're untouchable," he hisses. "you want to be fucked so bad? fine. i'll fuck you like the filthy little criminal you are."

you whimper when his grip tightens—then he spins you, throws you against his desk. your hips crash into the edge, papers scattering, your hands scrambling for balance. he's behind you again, dragging your skirt up so high it tears, yanking your panties down and tossing them like trash.

you feel his palm ghost over your ass and you can't help but push yourself back against him in excitement. "already soaked," he mutters, disgusted. "fucking slut."

crack.

you yelp—the first spank makes you jolt. second makes you moan. third has your knees buckling. he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, hissing in your ear, "say thank you."

"th-thank you," you pant.

crack.

"louder."

"thank you!"

he pulls your head back harder, exposing your throat—then his mouth is on you, biting, not kissing, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin until you cry out. sunghoon groans when he feels you twitch violently in his hold, his teeth scraping against your neck as he continues to leave violent splotches on your skin. 

"that's right," he breathes. "cry for me. scream if you need to. no one's coming for you." his hand slips between your legs, finally, and slaps your sopping cunt. you wail in response, your legs giving up on you as you rely on the desk in front of you and sunghoon as support. 

"needy," he sneers. "dripping all over my desk like a goddamn animal."

his fingers slide through the mess—not inside, just over your clit, slow, taunting strokes that make you tremble, "you wanna cum?" 

"yes," you gasp. "yes please—"

he pulls away, completely.

you sob—back arching, thighs clenching, breath broken.

"beg better."

"please, please—sunghoon, i need it, i need you, please—!"

he laughs. cold, "pathetic."

then he grabs your waist, slams you forward until your chest hits the desk with your hands flat, legs spread, back arched—and shoves his thick cock inside you in one brutal, single thrust. in the midst you hadn't even noticed sunghoon slip out his aching cock out of his dress pants, to busy fighting for your release. 

you scream at the intrusion. he doesn't give you a second to adjust, he fucks you like he owns you—hips snapping, cock dragging deep, thick and brutal and perfect. one hand wrapped around your throat, the other gripping your ass so hard you'll bruise. your walls suck him in like a vacuum, refusing to let him go causing him to hiss. 

you try to meet his thrusts — you try to grind back — but he slaps your ass again, harder, and hisses, "don't move unless i tell you to."

you go still, breathless and shaking. his fingers slip down again—circling your clit, slow, taunting and just as your body starts to tighten, just as your orgasm builds—

he pulls away. again.

you sob.

"not yet," he growls. "you think you've earned it? after all that teasing?"

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat in a punishing grip.  "you're gonna take it," he breathes, "every inch. every slap. every denial. and you're gonna fucking thank me."

"thank you," you cry. "please—please, i'll be good—"

he leans over you, cock still buried, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he continues his pace and fucks you rougher, harder and crueler. you lose count of how many times he brings you to the edge—how many times he lets you feel it just to rip it away.

you're drooling. trembling. begging.

and finally—finally—when you're gasping, soaked, ruined—

"cum."

the word cracks through you like lightning. your body explodes in trembles. 

you convulse around him, sobbing, screaming, cunt clenching tight as he chokes you through it —fingers digging in, cock pulsing deep inside you until he curses and spills inside, hips slamming once, twice more as he fucks it all into you.

then silence, just panting. shaking. his hands still on your hips as his cum dripping down your thighs. 

you lay there lifeless but sunghoon has other plans, his hands grip you tightly as he contorts and pushes your body around—moving you from his desk to his chair. 

 you don't know how you ended up like this, but you're tied up in his chair and you're far to fucked out to care. 

not just restrained—displayed. arms behind your back, wrists cuffed tight to the armrests. legs spread open and bent at the knee, ankles locked in place with thick leather straps he probably had custom made.

you can feel his cum leaking out of you and you can't do a thing about it. sunghoon leans back against his desk like he has all the time in the world—black dress shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, eyes drinking you in.

"look at you," his voice is low and cruel. you swallow hard, your cheeks are burning. your chest is rising and falling too fast.

he pushes off the desk and walks toward you, slow.

his fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, and you twitch, already sensitive, already leaking.

"legs shaking," he murmurs in admiration. "pussy swollen. thighs sticky."

he crouches in front of you, one hand sliding under your ass, lifting you just enough to tilt your hips.

"still dripping," he sneers. "you're disgusting."

your breath catches as he drags two fingers through your folds—slick and soaked and overstimulated—and lifts them to your lips.

"open." you obey mindlessly. 

he pushes them in slow, watches you suck them clean, jaw twitching with how filthy the taste is. "good girl," he mocks. then his fingers drop back down and he spits on your pussy and watches it drips down between your folds, warm and thick, mixing with his cum and your slick. 

you squirm—but the cuffs hold you down, "don't move." his palm lands on your inner thigh, hard enough to sting. then he slides two fingers inside slow, unforgiving—and curls them just right. 

your whole body jerks. "that's it," he breathes. "let me feel it. let me feel this tight little hole try to suck me in." he fucks you with his fingers like he owns you, thumb rolling over your clit. soaking the leather seat beneath you.

your eyes roll back and your moans turn desperate. "sunghoon," you whimper. "please, i'm—i'm gonna—"

he stops and pulls out completely.

you scream, your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. you're left dripping, throbbing, aching for him—and he just leans in, tongue sliding up the inside of your thigh like he's taunting prey.

then he bites, hard.

you cry out and he slaps your pussy in response, watching you twitch. 

he stands back up, looming over you. his hand curls around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter.

"you don't cum," he growls, "until i say you do." you nod, fast.

his free hand drags down the front of his pants—slow. threatening. you're his now. completely. tied to his chair, soaked with his cum, ruined from the inside out.

"we're not leaving this room," he says, leaning in close, "until you've screamed my name so many times you forget your own."

your arms are still pinned, your thighs are still open and your cunt is still leaking.

and sunghoon? he's sitting across from you like he's watching a show. shirt off now. cock out with one hand lazily stroking himself while the other rubs small firm circles on your clit.

you scream. your whole body jerks against the cuffs, hips snapping up, trying to run from the pressure—but there's nowhere to go. he hums, watching the way your thighs tremble, "this is what happens when you act out," he says calmly. "i could've been kind. could've been soft."

he presses his thumb hard against your sensitive nub. you sob out in response, far to overstimulated. 

"but no," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "you had to shove your tits in my face and moan my name like a fucking whore." you throw your head back, mouth falling open as he slides right against the bundle of nerves that are already so sore it hurts.

you're soaked, ruined, twitching. your legs keep trying to close, but the cuffs won't let you.

you cum again.

you scream—choking on the breath that never makes it out—your entire body jerking, wrists straining, tears spilling.

sunghoon finally moves, he kicks the chair until it swivels toward him, then straddles it—his knees on either side of yours, thighs wide, cock thick and leaking.

you cry in relief until he grabs his cock and slaps it against your overstimulated clit.

you howl in pain, he leans in close, lips at your ear, "don't pass out on me," he murmurs. "you're not done yet."

and then he pushes inside with no warning, no mercy.

just his cock slamming in deep, so deep—you can't even scream, just choke on the cry as your back arches, arms still trapped, legs locked wide open, cunt fluttering helplessly around the stretch.

"tight," he hisses. "fucking tight."

he doesn't ease in, he pounds you. the chair jerks with every thrust—your wrists slam against the armrests and your legs shake violently from the overstimulation, he grabs your throat to keep you still.

"cry for me," he pants. "let them hear you beg." you sob. scream. cum again and he fucks through it, groaning deep in his throat as your cunt squeezes him tight and refuses to let go. 

"i should leave you like this," he growls. "cuffed to my chair. ruined. dripping. fucked open and forgotten."

you can't speak, you can barely breathe.

but then he leans in with his mouth pressed to your ear and growls, "but you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

you nod helpless and broken.

"filthy little thing." his hand slides to your face, gripping it—holding your jaw still as he fucks you rougher, meaner, hips snapping, chair rocking, desk rattling behind you.

you cum one last time your loudest scream yet—and he finally groans, curses, slams in deep and spills inside, so hard you feel it throb against your cervix.

silence, just breathing.

just cum, just slick and heat and soaked leather.

you're limp with his cum leaking out of you again. your wrists raw, thighs bruised and your head luls back.

your whole body is twitching. you're soaked. stretched. dripping down the legs of the chair, his cum leaking out of your throbbing cunt in slow, slick trails. wrists raw. 

and sunghoon?he's already tucking himself back into his slacks.

not a glance spared, not a word spoken. just the quiet click of his belt and the sound of your ragged breathing. you whimper—a soft, broken little sound and try to shift, try to close your legs, but the cuffs keep them open. exposed. leaking.

"pathetic," he mutters, adjusting his cuffs. your lips part and you want to speak. to ask if he's going to untie you, if he's going to help you down—if this means anything at all.

but he cuts you off before you can even form the words, "that," he says, voice flat, "should teach you how to behave."

your stomach drops as he walks to the door. he doesn't touch you, doesn't untie you, doesn't clean you up or kiss your cheek or say anything kind. just unlocks the door, turns to look at you one last time—ruined, bound, soaked with his cum and shaking from everything he just did to you.

his expression is unreadable, cold. "next time you walk into my courtroom acting like a whore," he says, "you'll leave in worse shape than this." he pauses, walking back to you and you have a glimmer of hope that he'd untie you. 

but that all comes crashing down when he reaches you and he leans in, mouth at your ear, voice dark and smug.

"court's adjourned, baby."

then he walks out, leaving you tied there, used, aching.

alone.

and still desperate for more.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[ncrthofnowhere]

sweet dreams — part one

summary : your roommate sucks, but you sort of wanna fuck her, and that's just a terrible problem to have.

tags : nsfw! modern!au, sevika's huge butch cock, & mentions of masturbation.

wc : 1.1k

notes : for the precious anon that wanted more badroommate!sevika <3

Sevika was the worst roommate ever.

You’re going insane. You swear your lungs are turning black from all the second-hand smoke you’re inhaling. Sevika smokes inside the apartment constantly and she doesn’t listen to you when you yell at her to blow it out the window. You would really like your security deposit back, but at this point, you’re shit out of luck because the walls are definitely going to be stained yellow by the end of the lease.

You’re going insane. You get no sleep. She brings girls over every night and they’re always so damn loud when they’re going at it. You hate it. 

(“Oh Sevika!”

You’re on your stomach, biting into your pillow and trying to keep quiet as you rub furiously at your engorged clit. Unlike some people, you were considerate of the fact that your apartment had walls as thin as paper. Still, keeping quiet was difficult when your fingers felt so good against yourself.

“Fuck, you’re so big!”

You can’t help but whine at that. God, your mind drifts to Sevika, how insufferable she is and how deliciously her cock would fill you up. You’ve seen it, you work mornings and have seen the bulge she sports around in the early dawn when she’s half awake and still slightly hard from morning wood.

You think about how smug she would be, fucking you, how she could fold you in half and pound into you like you were meat and how you would thank her all the same. You think about how it would look to a third person, how her musclebound ass would clench with every thrust she makes into your cunt. You think about how you would come and whine for her to stop, saying it was too much and that you were too sensitive and how she would smirk and tell you that you could take more for her.

You think about Sevika, Sevika, Sevika. 

Your hips jerk sloppily to the rhythm of the fingers on your cunt. The noise it makes is delightfully sinful. You want Sevika to drink it all up, to tongue at it until you were writhing and screaming on her bed.

It isn’t long before you hear a moan that was louder than the rest and a low groan that definitely belonged to Sevika.

You come with them, your cunt squeezing and spasming against your hand. The orgasm has you struggling to breathe steadily as you flop onto your back. You’re too spent to get up to clean yourself, so you suck yourself off your fingers and wipe the spittle against your bedsheets. You let out a pleased sigh and fall headfirst into blissful sleep.

You can’t quite look Sevika in the eyes the next morning.)

You’re going insane. You’re annoyed all the time. She seemingly loves annoying the fuck of out of you because she teases you every time you walk out of your room. You’re trying to get used to it, the sexual innuendos (you always roll your eyes at those), the size jokes, (you’re really not that small, she’s just well built, alright?), and the fucking sex jokes, by god, the sex jokes at your expense. No, you aren’t a “prude,” you just… don’t have time for that.

(It started after the fifth girl she brought over. You confronted her, begged her to go to a damn hotel or something because it was getting ridiculous. You're probably only getting five hours of sleep a day and your clit really cannot take another night.

“I don’t really see the problem here,” she had said with her signature smirk.

“Sevika," you hissed, fuming, "You have these girls moaning like it’s their job!”

“Jealous?”

You had blushed at that and Sevika, observant as she was, did not miss the way your face turned tomato red.

“Wooow,” She draws the word out with the biggest grin on her face, amused to all hell, “you are!”

“Wh–” You wheezed, caught off guard, “No? I’m not!”

You sort of are. There’s no fucking way you’ll tell her that though.)

You’re going insane.

This woman is fucking insufferable. You wouldn’t really call yourself a petty woman per se, but Sevika makes you that kind of person. The idiot leaves her prosthetic arm everywhere around the apartment and it brings you immense satisfaction to hide it —  just to see how panicked she gets when she has to tear the entire place apart to find it.

You do not know how you were going to survive sexual frustration without fucking your roommate, which would be very, very bad. Or without going completely bald from the stress. Baldness would be preferable, honestly.

//

You sigh as you fumbled with the old front door knob to your shared apartment. You really don’t understand why the fuck your landlord refuses to just replace this ancient thing — the prongs of your keys get stuck in the eroded hole on a regular basis and it is a pain in the ass to wrestle it out without breaking the metal.

After ten straight minutes of struggle, you finally get the door open, only to get hit in the face with the strong odor of cigarillo smoke. Fucking god.

“Sevika!” You snarl, ready to yell at her.

The woman in question is sitting by the window, cigarillo in hand while actively blowing the fumes outside. You blink and look up and down at her. Sevika has seemingly dressed down for the night, wearing only an undershirt and loose sweatpants. The bulge between her crotch is deliciously highlighted by how she’s manspreaded across the loveseat. 

She raises her eyebrows up at you expectantly. You swallow, your throat suddenly desert dry. 

“…Hi.”

Sevika chuckles lowly at that, “hello.”

“I was—” you cough, “—I was going to yell at you for, uh… smoking inside.”

Sevika nods along slowly, like you were the crazy one here and she wasn’t the woman sitting in the living room with a hard on and blowing her cigarette smoke out the window for the first time in the three months you’ve lived here.

She uses her muscular arm to brace against the loveseat in order to sit up properly on the couch. The cigarillo looks delicate in her calloused hands. The movement highlights the muscles in her biceps and forearms, but it also jostles her cock, making you swallow harshly. She has to be doing this on purpose, you think.

“I’ll just—” you squeak out, gesturing awkwardly towards your bedroom, “I’m going to my bedroom now.”

Sevika smiles at that and brings a hand up to wave condescendingly at you.

“Sweet dreams.”

At that, you run to your room, slamming the door so hard the walls around seemed to vibrate. You slump against the door frame, horny and sweating.

What the fuck.

those that wanted to be tagged : @sevikalover824 ; @sevikaswife135 ; @djstinkyfartz ; @carotenoidstereo

[grimmsbride]

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀best time ⠀╲ sinister!mark ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary an opportunity presents itself that your beloved mark grayson simply can’t give up.

somnophillia (everything is purely consensual and was alluded to being talked out between mark and reader.) | pain kink | mark is a dick | spooning sex position | collapsed doggy style | pet names | use of the word slut, whore, etc. | degradation | ooc characters (sinister mark is not this nice) | dub-con (ish? just in case) | if somno isn’t for you just leave the fic | reader is chubby coded | hair pulling | rough sex | slight overstimulation | mentions of blood |

authors notes i had this idea cause truly sinister mark is probably the freakiest of the variants, lenseless being a close second (/j). again if somno isn’t for you, please don’t read and as always please excuse any grammar mistakes.

Night consumed your bedroom, the only light being the moon shining through your window. You were currently tucked under your blankets, enjoying the mixture of warmth and cold as you slept the night away. Soft snores escaped you as your body sunk into the comfortable mattress, your pillow cuddled close to you.

So deep in sleep you didn’t even hear your window open or close, nor wind entering your bedroom. A tall figure stood over your body, shadow covering you like some sort of comforting blanket.

Markus Grayson, stared down at you, a little smile covering his half covered features. The yellow of his costume was slightly stained red, a result of his previous endeavors. The man didn’t expect you to be awake at all, it was late after all. He wondered if you tried to stay up for him, probably forcing yourself to stay busy with some random show or even book.

The thought alone caused his smile to deepen, though that sickeningly sweet feeling seemed to travel lower the moment his eyes took in your body. You weren’t completely covered by the blanket, lower half peeking out whilst your chest and stomach was covered. You wore a pink muumuu, he believed you called it, the fabric resting shy of your waist and revealing your bare legs and ass barely covered by your black panties.

“What a tease.. bet she went to sleep like this on purpose.” Mark muttered to himself, feeling his pants magically tighten the longer he greedily took in your appearance. Within minutes the man was tearing his suit off, caring less if it got ripped in the process. Once completely free from its confinements, Mark was going knee first onto the bed, hand raising to drag across your plush form.

He watched in excitement the way goosebumps pricked in the wake of his touch, a soft shiver even emitting from you that nearly caused the man to giggle. Dragging his fingers from your arm, side, waist, and finally your ass; Mark not so delicately allowed his appendages to trace your barely covered slit, rubbing the pads against you slowly.

Mark took you in, watching that pretty face twitch; still completely asleep though your eyebrows pushing a little close. With a single flick his fingers were intruding your underwear, two of them gliding across your pussy for a moment before pushing into your awaiting hole.

A soft grunt escaped you, Mark lifting himself close until your back was flush against his front. Soft squelches surrounded the air as his fingers curled and thrusted, the man grinning the moment you began to squirm.

“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you while you sleep..” The man muttered, pushing his lips right against your ear as a sweet, “Didn’t know you could get this slutty..” escaped him.

Soon enough Mark was growing impatient, pulling his fingers from you before going for his boxers. Easily he tugged the underwear, revealing his hard length dripping with sticky excitement. The man gripped his dick, gliding his hand up and down for a moment before pushing his hips close.

The tip nudged your entrance, gliding across your wetness for extra lubrication before he began to push past the first ring of muscle. Slowly, you sucked him up; Mark glancing between the two of you and watching the way his dick disappeared inside you.

So focused on that, the man noticed you waking up last minute— only being alerted the moment a confused sound escaped you.

“Ma—mark..” You mumbled softly, blinking tiredly for a moment before a soft groan crept from your mouth. Your fingers clung to your pillow, shifting a bit as you attempt to accommodate his size. The man did little prep due to his impatience, causing the stretch to burn just a tad— a delicious, but understandably hard to get used to feeling. You whined softly, shifting once again only for a strong arm to tighten around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

“Don’t fucking run.. You can take it, you’ve don’t it so many times before.” Mark hissed against your ear, pushing his hips even closer. He couldn’t help but smile at your little pathetic moans or the way your pussy clung to him, coating his dick in your mess so easily.

“See? Your slutty little pussy wanted it just as bad.” He chuckled to himself, hand traveling between your plush thighs to your clit, tapping his fingers against the little button just to hear you whine even louder.

You hadn’t expected your sleep to get cut off by your lover’s own horniness, but you weren’t complaining one bit. It was a simple conversation the two of you had before, something Mark had mocked you for in the moment yet here he was— soaking up the opportunity.

A drawn out cry of his name escaped your lips the moment the man moved, pulling his hips back before pushing right back in, slamming his dick so perfectly inside. You had zero chance to recover before Mark’s hips started a rough and fast pace as if you hadn’t just woken up from your sleep.

The hold he had on you was tight, refusing to let you run away and simply making you take every, single, thrust. Tears were pricking at your eyes as the pleasure swarmed your stomach, pretty pussy clenching around him, as if scared of letting him go.

You shoved your face into the pillow, only for Mark’s free hand to grip your cheeks roughly, tilting your face away from the pillow whilst allowing his fingers to press into your face, refusing to allow you to cover your moans.

Mark glared down at you, giving such pointedly thrusts his irritation was plenty clear. “Quit moving your face, let me see how much of a whore you really are.”

Mark was practically drilling into you at this point, releasing your face to instead grip your thigh, lifting it to hit your walls at a different angle; tip brushing against your sweet spot with each thrust. Your lips were parted as a melodic string of moans escaped your aching throat, tears spilling over and trailing down your warm cheeks.

“Fu..fuck..! Mark, Mark!” Pretty cries escaped, hurried breaths shortening each word as he knocked the wind out of you. Mark always fucked you so greedily, as of wishing to kill you with his dick alone. Never allowing you to breathe, think, or even blink; such a ruthless cycle that you’ve unfortunately gotten addicted to.

“That’s it.. what a good girl. You like my name that much, huh?”

His mocking words dripped with confidence and his usual condescending nature— the man even mocking your moans right into your ear for good measure.

Your peak was arising, stomach clenching as you felt yourself draw closer and closer. You couldn’t help but meet his thrust, ass pushing flush against him as you desperately chased your end. Such actions had Mark groaning, pushing at your body until you were lying on your stomach.

Mark’s hands pressed against the plush mattress on either side of your body, resting on his knees as he thrusted into you so mercilessly you were seeing stars.

With every thrust you were clinging to your pillow for dear life, sobs escaping your body as you shook and gasped from the pleasure. A hand moved from your pillow to reach blindly for the man currently wrecking you, finding his wrist and latching on.

Mark could only chuckle, fucking you so relentlessly with no sign of growing tired.

“Close aren’t you? Can barely even move with how much you’re clenching me.. fuck..” The man lowered himself, thrusts becoming shallow and deep as his breath fanned across the shell of your ear.

“Go on, then— make a fucking mess, but I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, clenching him like a damn vice as you came, your arousal trickling down his dick and onto your poor blankets. You desperately tried to catch your breath, tried to relax; calm down— you simply couldn’t with the way his thrusts did not waver in the slightest.

You pinched your eyes closed, face dropping into your pillow for a split second— only for a loud yelp to escape the moment a tight hold came upon your hair.

Easily Mark lifted you onto your knees and hands, fingers laced with your pretty tresses in a perfect hold he refused to let go of.

“Is that whore brain of yours too fucked out to follow simple instructions?“ His hips slammed against your ass, loud slaps that echoed throughout the room and bounced off the walls. Despite his question you couldn’t even think to answer, desperately trying to breath but only releasing rushed breaths and throat aching moans.

The man hissed, pulling you up and leaning down until he could see your face. You were ruined, cheeks reddened and eyes glossy, tears staining your features so perfectly the man could feel himself getting hard all over again.

“Answer me.”

You searched for the words, babbling nonsense for a complete second that caused Mark to grin, other hand lifting to grasp your chin and gently shaking your face— the only gentleness he’s shown you in the past hour.

“Don’t go dumb, use your fucking words—“

“I—i’m sorry! I won’t..” A particularly hard thrust had you see stars, nearly tumbling over if it wasn’t for his tight hold on you. A hand of yours rose, clinging to his wrist; fingers trailing the veins beneath his skin.

“I— won’t do it again! Fuck, Mark, please..!”

Mark seemed to be satisfied with your answer, given the way his lips practically slammed against your own, a messy kiss that left you even more breathless than before. Your teeth knocked against each other’s emitting harsh groans from the pain, a metallic taste filling your mouth shortly after. A mess of tongue, teeth, and lips— the only way Mark liked to kiss, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip to pull at, enjoying the way you whined so sweetly.

Hammering into you without a care, your second orgasm erupted from you so suddenly, causing you to break away to release a strangled cry of pleasure, head going slack you shook from the aftershocks.

Before you could go completely slump, the man was snatching you up in strong arms, keeping you tight against him.

“Nah.. don’t tap out on me just yet, sweetheart. Let’s see if I can fuck you back to sleep..”

[bunni-v1]

Going to bed rn but… thinking about how artists depict pv’s soul jam as an erogenous zone…

MDNI

The souljam is the most important part of a cookie, it’s what separates them from a lifeless desert and a living creature. It’s their soul, their very being, and most cookies aren’t out in the open because it’s not safe for them. Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk has his out on full display, like a thing of pride. He’s more than capable of defending it, so why not?

That doesn’t mean it isn’t sensitive, though. The souljam, when touched directly, has a very serious physical affect on its cookie. Be that with intent to harm or not, if a cookie was able to get close enough to either of them to touch the souljam it would be quite the sight.

To get so close to him, in a romantic sense, shows a lot of trust. His souljam is very very sensitive to both touch and intent, so if he’s allowing you to touch it, it’s a huge honor.

For Pure Vanilla, it’s not something he allows you to do early on, but after a while of gaining trust and learning how to love one another. It takes him some time, but once he finally feels comfortable he’ll allow you to touch his souljam.

It’s a very intimate ordeal, and he sets it up to be such. He’s quite literally allowing you to touch his soul, he is aware of the weight of the situation, and as such he wants it to feel important.

The two of you face each other on his bed, the dim light of the candles illuminating your rapidly warming figures. The gentle yellow glow glints off his souljam, temping you to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back. He is nervous, you can tell in the way his hands shake as he holds yours. You try to calm him by squeezing his fingers, and he gives you an uneasy smile.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, that you understand, but the stubborn furrow of his brows tells you not to say anything. He had already made up his mind, there was no wavering his resolve. So you give him all the time he needs, and when he is ready, he brings your fingers to his lips. He gives each tip a soft kiss, as if blessing them with his approval, then he guides your hands down right before his souljam.

You can feel a pull to it, as if he was begging you to touch it, but you still hesitate. Your hands curl in on themselves for a moment before reaching out and resting on the golden crest which houses it. You see him swallow, only able to imagine how he might feel in this moment. Your trace your fingers along the gold rimmed edge, trembling for a moment before finally you press a careful finger against the smooth surface.

It strikes you as odd that it’s warm, you expect it to feel cold, but it was heated beneath your touch. You press another finger to it, carefully rubbing over it with intrigue. Pure Vanilla shudders, the effect immediate. You don’t stop, now cupping it in your palm. You can nearly feel appreciation through it, and you see it clearly on his face. Brows scrunching up and cheeks turning a deep red, his breath is already ragged too.

You rub your thumb over him and he grabs at your hips, grounding himself. You nearly stop, feeling bad for how much this seemed to get to him, but he opens his eyes and gives you the most lustful stare beneath heavy lashes. You’ve never seen such a look on his face, but you can’t help but find it beautiful.

You give him what he wants, pressing him into a deep kiss as your other hand cups the other side of him. You continue your slow strokes as you make out with him, tongues clashing desperately against each other. You can tell his mind is foggy from how slow he reacts to your challenges, and the little moans that he sighs into your mouth. You pick up the pace of the stroking, using your whole hand to service him.

It gets him huffing, unable to keep up with the pleasure and your mouth. You allow him the grace of leaning against your shoulder, instead of forcing his mind to split two ways. His hands are digging into your sides, pressing you as close as he can get you. It’s like he can’t get enough of it, and he pulls you onto his lap pressing his face into your shoulder.

It’s harder to play with the souljam like this, but when he begins to rock his hips up into you, you find you don’t care. You match the pace of your fingers with the pace of his thrusts, which he figures out quickly and abuses for his own use. Speeding up enough to have your head lulling back as you continue stroking him like your life depended on it.

He falls back into the mattress after a moment, giving you access to ride him through his pleasure. Your fingers massage the warm thing as your hips move in time, eyes appreciating the sight of him falling apart beneath you. It was rare you got to take care of him like this, so you wanted to savor the sight of his screwed up face. Each thrust is followed by a broken moan, hands grabbing at you as if that might make things easier on him.

As you watch him, feel what makes him who he is, a thought crosses your mind. Depraved, and maybe crossing a line, but you had to try. You lean down over him, feeling his eyes squint on you in confusion when you remove your hands from his souljam. It doesn’t last long, your lips pressing against the jam. He gasps, fingers curling into your hair - not pulling, just encouraging you to continue.

Naturally, you do, kissing him slowly. You can feel it heat up with each kiss, which only encourages you to continue. Another thought pops up, just as bad as the last, but Pure Vanilla has been nothing if not receptive. You’re sure he won’t mind if you get a little taste. So, you open your mouth, locking eyes with him, and lick a slow stripe across the rounded surface.

He groans in a way you’d never heard, pressing his hips into yours with a newfound desperation. You squeal when he flips you over, giving you a disapproving frown. Seems that was a little too much, but he couldn’t be too mad, not when he quickly pushes your clothes aside and sinks himself inside you. Leaning over you, burying his face into your neck again, he begins without any fanfare.

The pace is faster than usual, hips meeting yours eagerly. Each thrust is deep, dragging against your walls deliciously. Your fingers find his souljam, continuing their previous ministrations, and he groans again. It’s so unlike him, all of it, but you like it. It’s a new side of him that he’s trusting you with, you can only hope to see more in the future.

When he comes undone, it is the loudest cry you’d ever heard from him. Broken and desperate, cracking through the quiet of his quarters like lightning. His body trembling in your grasp like the aftershock, but his hands remain firm and strong against your dough. He fills you up with warm sticky goodness, reminiscent of the heat of his souljam. It feels nice, to be so surrounded by him, and you know he feels the same too.

You press gentle kisses to the side of his face, calming him from his high. He returns to earthbread slowly, chest heaving against yours with effort. When he is coherent again, he gives you a smile — warm and typical from him. Your sweet Vanilla coming back to you with all the love in his eyes.

“I might have gotten carried away,” He admits shyly.

You smile, “I don’t mind. It was nice.”

He hums, nodding in agreement. His souljam is hot between your bodies, warming you further where it rests atop your clothes. When he pulls away he kisses your cheek, taking a moment to admire you before leaning back with a satisfied smile.

“We should do that more often,” You mumble from your spot in the sheets.

You can’t see his face from your position, but you don’t need to when he pats your thigh, “I agree. Much more often.”

[lazysoulwriter]

that's my shirt! - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x wife!reader, domestic fluff, stealing his favorite vintage Lakers tee, soft teasing, possessive Pedro, late morning vibes, kisses, sunshine, love, and cozy couple energy

---

The shirt was definitely not yours.

You knew it the second you pulled it out of the drawer — all vintage yellow cotton and worn-in softness, the cracked Lakers print barely holding on. It smelled like him. Not cologne, but him. Skin and sunshine and home.

You slipped it on anyway.

Your bare legs peeked out from under the hem as you padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You were reaching for the coffee mug when you heard him:

“…Hey.”

You turned, mug still in hand.

Pedro was leaning against the doorway, hair a mess, sweatpants riding low on his hips, and that look on his face — somewhere between amused and in love. Probably both.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He pointed at you. “That’s my shirt.”

You looked down at the big yellow tee. “Is it?”

“You know it is. That’s the shirt.”

“The shirt?”

He walked toward you slowly, eyes trailing up and down with that stupid soft smile that made your knees weak. “That shirt’s been with me since, like, 2010. I bought it off a street vendor after a shoot. I wore it to death. It’s basically vintage now. That shirt’s survived two apartments, a flood, and my early career anxiety.”

You tried not to laugh. “So it’s sacred.”

He nodded, lips twitching. “Basically.”

You stepped closer, mug warming your hands. “Well, it lives here now. With me.”

Pedro let out a low sigh, pulling you against him. “You steal everything I love.”

You smirked. “Including you.”

“That’s different,” he murmured, voice dropping as his fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt. “I let you.”

He kissed you then — slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

You melted into it, hands resting on his chest.

When you pulled back, you looked up at him through your lashes. “Do you want it back?”

He looked absolutely offended. “I would die before taking that off of you right now.”

You giggled.

He tugged you closer, his hands warm under the shirt now, smoothing over your hips.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said softly. “I used to wear this on days I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Like it gave me courage or something.”

“And now?”

He kissed your temple. “Now I look at you in it, and I know I figured it out.”

You blinked back the stupid sting in your eyes.

Pedro, with all his softness and sleepy morning voice, buried his face in your neck again and whispered, “My two favorite things in one place. That shirt never looked this good, by the way.”

You pulled back just to grin at him.

“Good. Because I’m keeping it.”

He smirked. “You were always gonna.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512

[rub-the-rest-with-yellow]

Information:

Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her son Giovanni

Agnolo di Cosimo 1545

Agnolo was historically known as Bronzino, probably because of his red hair. I like to think its the same as calling a redhead guy Rusty so much history would remember him by his nickname. Other than being a ginger he was the official painter of the Medicis and probably painted the paintings youve seen of them.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 20 / epilogue)

masterlist

-

Black trees against a yellow sky at evening time. 

It’s late when you finally reach home. Dark enough to almost be night—a full day longer to return than it took to leave, but then you hadn’t ridden as hard coming back, too sore and sleep-deprived to manage the same pace. Even the meager sleep you got on the road was hardly sufficient.

Then the shape of your house appears on the horizon and you nearly break down in tears. The sight of it fills you with such relief that you nearly lose your balance, your head slumping forward. Too long. Days that felt like weeks, your body and mind weary from the long trek home. Against the gold of the horizon light, it appears like a boat arriving at port. 

You throw yourself off your horse and to the ground before John has even had a chance himself to dismount and come help you down. He stomps over when your foot nearly catches in the stirrup, nostrils flared and mustache twitching with his scowl. 

“Don’t go breaking your leg before I’ve even gotten you home,” he growls when he reaches you, fitting his hand around the nape of your neck and giving it a squeeze. You’d shiver, but your body is too exhausted for your libido to manage more than a half-hearted twitch. Instead you nod, head bobbing like a baby doll. 

John takes the horses to the stables while you clamber up the stairs on wobbly legs, headed straight for your bedroom, passing out the second your head touches the pillow. Your growling stomach will have to be addressed in the morning.

You aren’t conscious for when John comes up to join you, but you swear even in sleep you can sense his presence in the room. Certainly when he curls himself around you, the wall of warmth at your back briefly making your eyes flicker open before sleep claims you again and they slide shut. 

In the morning, you eat a big breakfast before letting John rub a liniment onto your inner thighs and bandage the cuts on your hands and face. The doctor he takes you to see after breakfast for the shoulder that Graves dislocated prescribes bed rest and light stretching for recovery and laudanum for any lingering pain. 

“What did you tell him?” you ask when the two of you head out for a light lunch in town before heading back home. 

“Told him you fell off a horse.” He shrugs. “Not that uncommon around here.”

All you can do is roll your eyes. 

Still, it’s as good an excuse as any. No one questions your story when you tell it to them over the following days, when your shoulder is still too tender for you to move it too vigorously. Only Kate lifts a brow knowingly, all but cornering you for the real story when you finally get a moment alone. 

“That sonuvabitch,” she hisses when you finally break and tell her what happened. 

“It’s fine,” you insist, shushing her. “John… Well, John handled it.”

She nods approvingly, then looks like she might say more before thinking the better of it. Silence falls between the two of you. 

“He—” you pause in the middle of your sentence, unsure of how exactly to say it. “It wasn’t so bad. Telling him, I mean.”

Kate must catch the slight inflection in your voice because she stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. “…I’m happy to hear that.”

You inhale as if gathering your breath to say more, but nothing comes out. You know what it is you want to say, but it’s getting it out that’s the tricky bit. What you want to tell her is that your trust wasn’t misplaced in the end; all of your fears that the truth would shatter the affection and trust that had finally been shown to you after a lifetime of nothing were unfounded, proven ultimately wrong. 

“Was there something else you wanted to add?”

You chew your lower lip. 

“No. Nothing else,” you say in the end. There’ll be a time someday to tell her that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced with John or Kyle either; perhaps that day will come sooner than you expect, but for now it remains on the distant horizon. It’s not your place to lecture or admonish; your place in her life is to offer the same feeling of security and companionship as she’s offered you.  

Today, you loop your arm through hers and join her for lunch. 

In town, people greet you like you never left. Only one person asks you about the man you were walking with the previous day, and Kate covers for you when you stumble over your answer, throat constricting in your panic. There’s no suspicion in the question, but still you anticipate it because life has conditioned you to expect pain as a response to any action or inaction. 

You are surprised when pain doesn’t come this time. But still, you are wary.

When you get home, John fills the tub with hot water for you and lets you wash up on your own while he tends to the horses, the third now unofficially his. You lean your arms over the side of the tub and drift in and out of your daydreams, ears attuned only to the sound of his voice and the owls calling from the trees just beyond the house. Eyes fluttering shut until slipping deeper into the water kicks you back into wakefulness. 

“You falling asleep in there?” he asks when he stomps back inside, the door slamming shut behind him and nearly giving you a heart attack. 

“No,” you deny, discreetly wiping the rheum from the inner corners of your eyes. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course,” he snorts. Amused as ever by seemingly anything that comes out of your mouth.

A telegram comes in to the sheriff's office some weeks later asking about a missing bounty hunter, and though you pitch forward in your chair when John tells you this, he’s quick to remind you that as far as anyone else knows, Graves moved on after his first visit a month or so back. 

It takes time to reassure you, but slowly your hands unclench from the edge of your seat. 

Still, you make yourself scarce for a week after that. It takes some time for you to feel safe again. You spend those first few days after hearing about the telegram constantly looking over your shoulder, plagued by the worry that you’ll be found out. Sharing your worries with John doesn’t go a long way towards alleviating them because his confidence never wavers. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Would it kill you to just pretend?” you huff, cracking an egg into the skillet. 

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for him here. ‘Far as anyone knows, he made his way west a long time ago,” he says, dismissing your concerns while clipping his fingernails at the kitchen table. You scrunch up your nose when you glance over your shoulder.

“You better not think I’m sweeping those up.”

He barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head at the same time. 

True to his word, the front door stays shut. No one comes knocking looking for an errant bounty hunter. Perhaps that is a lesson that you can take away from all of this—that there is no reward for isolating oneself. Your safety has only ever been assured in community, in putting your trust in others and safeguarding their secrets in turn. Only love has ever held out its arms for you to fall into. 

And now the days pass like clouds in the sky. 

Tranquility hovers on the periphery of your life with every intention of calling out your name. It’s waiting for you with open arms. 

In the evenings, John takes you upstairs to the bedroom and pries you open enough to fit himself in. His mouth blazes a trail across your body, sucking your nipples until they’re beaded, wetting his beard with the essence of your pleasure, and bringing you to the brink of completion time and again before pushing you over. 

After a while, he leaves a piece of himself behind. 

Weeks pass and the seasons change. The changes you notice in your body are physical as well as emotional. At some point since coming home, you must have started to unwind. Shoulders loosening up, knots melting down your back. Is it just you, or does the air smell fresher too? 

You pin the laundry up on the clothesline and wait for your husband to come home. The sun sets earlier these days with autumn just around the corner. Already the leaves have begun to redden and brown, some breaking off from the branches altogether and floating to the ground where you know eventually they’ll rot and dissolve into the earth, starting the cycle of death and rebirth all over again. 

Winter is fast approaching and you know this one will be tough with a little one on the way. You’ve already started preparing for the winter months—canning and storing corn and potatoes and other root vegetables harvested from your garden, making preserves from the fruits of autumn—apples and pears sealed in jars of thick syrup—and filling the cellar with barrels of salted and cured meats. In town, you visit the seamstress for clothes of thicker material and leave with an armful of wool flannel petticoats, fur-trimmed bonnets, and corsets of a heavier cotton coutil. 

You rest a hand on your belly as you stare off into the distant mountains. Even the sky darkens earlier these days. When all of the laundry is pinned on the line, you pick up the wicker basket resting by your feet and bring it back inside, shuffling into the kitchen to get started on supper. 

There’s still much that needs to be done before winter arrives. Firewood to be chopped, furs and blankets to be hung on the walls, the fireplace to be swept, and more. Enough to keep you busy and your mind occupied when you aren’t bent over a book because that’s also your reality these days. The librarian in town now knows you by name and knows to set aside a few books a week for you to pick up when you pass by with Kate. 

You don’t think much of the knock at the door at first, absent-mindedly thinking that it must be a neighbor come to visit. Only when you open the door to an unfamiliar face do you pause. 

It’s a woman, not too dissimilar in looks from you. A bit taller, but otherwise if someone were to describe you from looks alone, they might be tempted to use the same words for either of you. She stands on your porch with a suitcase held by her side, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the short trip from town. She dabs her forehead lightly with a handkerchief before pocketing it again.

“Hello there,” she greets, a bright smile on her face. “I’m looking for John Price. I was told he lives here?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her nonplussed, not understanding why a strange woman might be at your door asking for your husband in such a familiar way. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then the light goes on and your confusion shifts to disbelief with a twinge of rage. 

“We’re engaged to be married,” the other woman hurries to explain, taking a step closer, foot wedged in the door almost as if intending to barge right in. 

Her gall nearly makes you lose your temper. Months ago, you might’ve welcomed her arrival, eager to prove to John that you weren’t the woman that he mistook you for so that you could be on your merry way. But that time has long since passed. There isn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than here. You’ve put roots down, entrenched yourself in every way.

Your lips pull into a hard line, face set in stone. “You must be mistaken. He’s already married.”

She blinks, uncomprehending. “That’s…—are you sure? We’ve been corresponding. I know I’m a few months late, but I was held up back in—”

You cut her off by sticking out your hand, topaz ring shining bright on your third finger. “I’m sure. But thank you for stopping by; I’ll let John know you send your apologies.”

And with that, you shove her foot out with yours and shut the door on her face. On another day, you’ll allow yourself to feel guilty for your rudeness; for now, this is your happy ending to enjoy. 

And savor it, you will.

[tender-rosiey]

“A BIT GENTLER, PLEASE?”

— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna feeling their baby kick (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

satoru was always all over you, one clingy and affectionate husband.

truthfully, while you would like to say that he is annoying and is making you regret ever getting pregnant, you have to admit that he makes being pregnant a lot easier to endure. his light-hearted way of speaking puts you at easy somehow.

he also made it very obvious that he is excited for the baby, maybe even more than you’re. one of the many ways he shows his enthusiasm is through buying baby clothes and baby equipment and I mean a shit ton of them.

that’s why you’re not surprised when he enters the house with yet another batch of baby clothes, “wifey, I am home!”

you get up and waddle your way to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what did you get this time?”

“I thought you would never ask,” he smirks before pulling out each and every one of the outfits he got.

you’re sat on the couch with a cup of your favorite warm drink as you listen to his rambles, “first off, I got this really cute blue dress! call it a dad’s instinct but I think she will have my gorgeous eyes,” he grins.

you nod absentmindedly as he continues, “second, I got this yellow jump suit? overalls? dungarees?” he switches his accent in the end and you roll your eyes. he resumes, “eh, I don’t care, but it’s pretty so who cares?”

he puts the clothes aside before kneeling in front you, hand resting on your stomaxh, “right, baby?” he coos, “daddy’s going to get you all the pretty outfits you want!”

you’re about to drift to sleep while your husband busies himself with the baby, but you’re quickly brought back to consciousness when you feel her kick against your stomach.

your husband’s gasp quickly follows after before he presses his ear to your stomach, “can you do that again for me, pretty?”

his other hand moves to hold your own and he guides your hand to his hair, “somehow, this is making me realize just how close she is to finally join us, right, wifey?”

“right, ‘toru,” you smile softly and he quickly starts peppering your face with kisses, murmuring about how his pretty wife is simply irresistible.

NANAMI KENTO:

whenever someone asks you about kento, you can’t find the words to stress just how much of a sweetheart he is. he was always a caring and attentive man.

yet, somehow it amplified after your pregnancy: he helps you rest as much as he can, cooks for you, and gets you all the snacks you would like.

you also remember the first time you told him that your feet hurt, and he ended up massaging it for you. you cried that day.

in summary, he never left you in need of anything, like right now for example.

“y/n, would you like anything else?”

a dopey smile is plastered on your face as you relax further in the cushions, feet propped up on the pillow your sweetheart of a husband got.

he places your favorite snacks right by your side. you cup his face and press a lingering kiss on his cheek, “no, thank you, kento.”

he nods and takes a seat beside you. he takes your hand into his and starts rubbing your hand, “we should start preparing the baby’s room,” he murmurs softly.

you nod, head resting on his shoulder, “you’re right. we need to welcome our little princess well.”

he chuckles and his hand moves to rest on your stomach, “I assembled the crib already so that’s something to be proud of.”

nanami’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder and you snuggle closer into his chest, giggling, “my strong, independent, and reliable husband,” you sigh happily, “whatever will I do without you?”

he half-heartedly rolls his eyes, “flattery is getting you nowhere.”

“but it does!” you laugh and he lightly tickles you. your hand rests on your stomach, alongside his. you smirk, “what do you think, baby? is mommy right?”

to your absolute delight, the little girl kicks against your womb making you squeal and instantly look at your husband, “kento, did you feel that?!”

“…yeah,” his face is one of awe. she kicks once again and nanami can’t help but press a kiss to your stomach, “looks like she is a strong, healthy baby.”

 “just like her dad,” you chuckle but stop to think about it for a moment before concern over takes your face.

nanami’s gaze quickly snaps to you, “what’s wrong?”

“if she will be as strong as you then god help my uterus.”

GETO SUGURU:

geto gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you.

in addition to that, nanako and mimiko love hanging out with you so it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you’re accompanied by someone.

today, he was doing some of his usual works in the establishment? shrine? eh whatever.

no fiber of his being expected the girls to burst into the room, grins filling their faces, as they urgently call him, “geto-sama! you have to see what just happened!”

with no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the girls. he asks them, voice laced with concern, “is y/n okay? did something happen?”

the girls giggle as they finally near your room. mimiko speak up, “she is okay! but something important really did happen!”

somehow, it sends geto more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?

after a while, they are finally there, and geto wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.

you giggle, “’calm down, suguru,” you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, “can you feel it?”

“feel it? what do you mean—“ he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.

you nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.

he rests his head against your stomach, “how are you, little buddy?”

geto chuckles softly, “better not cause trouble for your pretty mom,” his eyes lock with yours, “I hate to see her in pain or discomfort.”

you roll your eyes before patting your husband’s head, “you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“I would rather only charm you, y’know,” he chuckles.

the both of you completely forget about the pair of girls standing at the door way, each snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you.

nanako snickers a little before teasing, “that line was a bit cheesy, no?”

he quirks an eyebrow at them and they quickly flee away. with a soft sigh and a gentle chuckle, he goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

it’s safe to say that sukuna was surprised with the news of your pregnancy, but he came to terms with it quicker than you expected.

he just had to sit with himself a bit and understand that the ‘brat’ in you was his ‘brat’ as well.

he also found himself staring at your stomach longer than he would like. he started to really think about how life will go on from this point onwards.

he is a feared man, the king of curses, with no weaknesses to ever exploit.

that is until you came into his life. he grew fond of you and the rest is history. right now, though, you’re carrying his child.

after a long day, he finally enters your chambers and finds you fast asleep.

he guesses that carrying a child of his own must be more exhausting than that of a normal man. his feet take him to you and his figure towers over your sleeping form.

he watches your expression contort ever so slightly as you stir, perhaps in seek of your comfort.

he sits by your side and his hand traces your every feature, nails slightly grazing you but never hurting you. finally, it reaches your stomach and he frowns lightly.

he sighs, “just what the hell am I going to do with you?”

he feels a light kick against his palm.

his eyes widen at the movement and his hand involuntary presses against your stomach once more, wanting to feel the kick once again. he narrows his eyes, “what? you think that light kick is fit for the kid of the king of curses?”

as if understanding what he said, the baby delivers one rough and tough kick to your abdomen. you wince and whine at the pain, “sukuna, don’t be mean to the baby…”

“I am not trying to, woman,” he grumbles, “that kid is just short-tempered.”

sukuna is sporting quite the frown but it doesn’t stop his hand from massaging your stomach and you hum in content before sassing him, “oh wow, I wonder where did he get that from.”

you squeak as you feel a pinch to your side. you glare at sukuna who glares at you back before replying, “he got it from one stubborn woman who happens to be mine.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[fairy-angel222]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—nanami is fed up of your annoying behavior

cw: smut, rough nanami, really mean nanami, heavy degradation, use of (slut, bitch), hair pulling, cumming inside you, gagging, face fucking, desk sex

a/n: this pic + mean nanami was trending months ago ik, but this is a repost so :’)

Being Satoru’s brat of a sister. Always teasing Nanami about him not having a girlfriend. You’re constantly whining in his ears about the dumbest things. You’re as annoying as your big brother, and Nanami can only tolerate so much. Especially when you decide to catch an attitude with everybody because something didn’t go your way.

That is exactly why Nanami had you on your knees taking his cock, his hand in your hair roughly bobbing your head along his thick length. “Is this what you needed to shut up, hmm?”

“Needed to be treated like the stupid slut that you are. Fuck, you’re so much less annoying like this.” He cursed, eyes dark with rage as he made you take him deeper. Loud gags filling the empty room as Nanami fucked your face.

Mascara filled tears ran down your face as you struggled to breathe. Your nails digging into the muscular man’s thighs. You could feel the tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat with each movement of his hips. His pace fast and hard, heavy balls slapping your chin repeatedly.

Nanami’s head fell back, a string of curses leaving his mouth before groaning loudly. Two consecutive globs of his spit falling onto your face followed by the sharp slap of his palm. The man using his fingers to spread his saliva and your tears across your cheeks. “So, so much better like this.”

He yanked you up by your hair. Bending you over his desk before thrusting into your sopping pussy with no warning.

You let out soft cries as he bullied your cunt open, stretching you out almost painfully. Nanami groaned loudly when you clenched down on him. His long fingers digging into your cheeks as your moans increased in volume. “Shut the fuck up.” he grunted. Pulling off his tie in one swift motion before stuffing it into your babbling mouth.

“Just shut up and take it. Had enough of your bratty attitude.” He growled meanly.

Nanami’s hips snapped into yours inhumanly, your tits rubbing against the hard wooden desk as your body jerked with every thrust. It felt so good to put you back in your place. He was so fucking tired of hearing your voice.

Nanami this. Nanami that. I want this. I want that. Always getting on like a fucking baby when you didn’t get your way. He was sick of it.

Nanami grabbed onto your two wrists bruisingly, holding them behind your back as his other hand found its place in your hair again. Pulling you up, Nanami held you flush against him, cock reaching even deeper than before as he fucked into your shorter frame.

You felt so tiny against him, your head rested on his broad chest as your sobs were muffled by the yellow and black cloth. Forcing your teary eyes open, you could see the anger on the man’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, hooded eyes glaring down at you and his lips pressed into a scowl.

It gave him maximum satisfaction to see you so dumb on his cock. “Maybe this was your fucking goal all along. To have me ruin you on my cock and fuck that attitude out of you.” He grunted.

“Fuck, i hate you so much baby. Look at you, where’s that annoying bitch now huh?” He laughed darkly. “Gotta keep fucking you like this to keep your dumb slut of a mouth in check.”

You let out a muffled cry, his tie becoming soaked with your tears and spit as drool ran down the sides of your mouth. Knees wobbly beneath you as your eyes rolled back, the man fucking you closer to orgasm.

“Fucking look at me.” he growled, “Look at me when i break this pussy on my cock.” He demanded, his voice rough and deep. You whimpered, glassy eyes looking up at him through wet lashes till you met his brown ones.

Your pussy clenched impossibly harder, your slick running down your thighs as he fucked out your every last brain cell. Slamming up harshly until your mind was etched with nothing but him, his name, and his monster of a cock.

You could feel his veins rubbing against your gummy spot as your body began to shake. Muffled incoherent moans of his name being spilled straight into the fabric between your lips.

“Should’ve known sooner that this is what a slut like you needed. It’s all you’re fucking good for huh baby?” You nodded in agreement with a cry. Obscenely loud squelching sounds filling the room as he sloppily thrusted into your soaked pussy.

A smirk grew on the man’s face. “Maybe I should stop right now and leave you needy for my cock for the rest of the day.” You whined in protest, your tears ready to double in amount. Nanami only smirked wider, “Teach you a real lesson.”

Nanami’s mouth hung slightly in short grunts, his abs tensing behind you. “Fuck, go ahead slut. Cum, make a mess f’ me.”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, your moans and screams going unheard as you squirted. The clear liquid gushing onto the man’s thighs and tiled floor. “Dirty fucking bitch.” he spat, teeth clenched as he contemplated pulling out. “Gonna fill you up with all my cum. Someone like you is bound to be on the pill.”

Nanami stilled deep inside you, his deep groan sounding in your ear as you felt his hot ropes of cum coat your walls. “There we fucking go.” He breathed, remaining buried in your warm cunt for a few more minutes before pulling out.

Upon seeing your messy tear stained face, Nanami’s eyes widened. Did he go too far? Shit. Taking the dripping tie out your mouth, he opened his mouth to ask if you were okay. He was taken aback when you hugged him tightly, looking up at him with a wide grin. You truly were a little slut.

You giggled, “Wanted that for so long. Wish you would have done it sooner.” you pouted. And Nanami simply blinked in surprise as you nuzzled into his chest. You really were a Gojo.

[fear-is-truth]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. nicholas alexander chavez is popular, rich, spoiled and… annoyingly hot. / wc: 1.7k

tags — f! reader. nothing explicit unfortunately

“You’re late,” Nicholas drawled, idly adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He sat sprawled in his family’s oversized leather chair as if he owned the goddamn town—and in truth, he pretty much did. A big chunk of it, anyway. Draped in designer clothes, a pastel sweater tied around his neck, he gave you one of his signature smirk. You rolled your eyes and dropped your keys on the side table. “Relax, I had to wait for Cooper to show up,” you replied, nodding toward your best friend, lounged on the couch across from you. “He was running late.”

Cooper waved a hand lazily, one leg draped over the other as he lounged comfortably on the couch. “Blame the photographer for keeping me late,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. He didn’t model for the paycheck—it was more of a hobby. The Koch family was just as loaded as the Chavez family. Nicholas let out a low whistle. “Maybe he was just hoping to get some?”

Cooper carefully selected out a piece of hard peppermint candy from the glass bowl and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the candy at Nicholas, nailing him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama. Cooper just lowered his shades again, lips curling into a smirk. You leaned against the armrest, casting a glance at Nic, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time. He was always like this, soaking in attention like he was born to it. Girls practically fell at his feet wherever he went, but for some reason, he spent more time around you and Cooper than anyone else. Maybe it was because you weren’t interested in feeding his ego.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” Nicholas asked, unwrapping the piece of candy and popping it into his mouth. “How about we throw a pool party?”

You exchanged a glance with Cooper, who raised an eyebrow. The “pool parties” usually meant a crowd, loud music, and a bunch of people you could barely tolerate.

“Isn’t it kind of late for that?” you hinted, half-hoping he’d change his mind. Nic shrugged, “that’s the point.”

•••

The pool glittered under the soft yellow glow of string lights, and the evening was warm, the kind of perfect summer evening that made it hard to believe anything could go wrong. The air was filled with music, and a few groups of people were already mingling, laughing, and lounging by the poolside.

You stood off to the side, trying not to scowl as you watched Nicholas laughing with a few of the girls who had already gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. Your stomach twisted a little, watching them throw themselves at him, one of them resting a hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said. Nicholas, of course, ate it all up, flashing that blinding white smile that had made him the heartthrob of the town. It was stupid to feel jealous. It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. He was the kind of guy everyone wanted—hot, rich, athletic—practically born to be the centre of attention. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch as they tossed their hair, squeezed their boobs together, leaning in a little too close.

Part of you wished he’d notice you instead.

“Here,” a cold sensation jolted you out of your thoughts. Cooper pressed a chilled can of Cola against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile as you jumped.

“Hey!” you protested, swatting at his hand but unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face.

“You looked like you needed it,” he explained, the can still lingering near your face. “Before you set something on fire with that glare of yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” you muttered, wiping the condensation off your cheek, but the smile stayed. “and for your information, I wasn’t glaring.”

“Sure,” Cooper replied, popping open the can and offering the can to you. “If by ‘wasn’t glaring’ you mean staring daggers at those girls who won’t leave Nic alone.”

You sighed as you took a sip, your gaze drifting back to the scene. Nicholas looked like he was having the time of his life, head thrown back in laughter at something one of the girls said. He was always like this—playing up his charisma and humour, making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even when he was surrounded by half the town’s prettiest, snobbiest chicks.

“He enjoys the attention, you know,” Cooper said, his voice softer now, more serious. “But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you mumbled, staring down at the Coke in your hands. The cold can had warmed up a little from the heat of your skin, much like the warmth creeping up your chest from the jealousy. You didn’t want to feel this way. You weren’t even sure when it had started—this weird tension whenever Nicholas was around, the way your heart did a stupid flip whenever he so much as looked at you. He was Nic. Your obnoxious best friend. And yet… it was hard to watch other people throw themselves at him, especially when he seemed to thrive off it.

Cooper glanced back at them, then back at you, shaking his head slightly. “Look, Nic’s… complicated. Okay fine, he can be of a dick sometimes. But when it comes down to it, who’s he spending most of his time with? Not them.” He jerked his head toward the pool, where the girls were practically circling around Nicholas like a bunch of hungry sharks. “You.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mumbled, watching as Nic cannonballed into the pool, causing a water to splash everywhere. He resurfaced with a grin, his hair slicked back, shaking his hair like a wet dog. The girls were in hysterics, of course. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. But even as he laughed, his eyes scanned the patio, searching the crowd. And when he spotted you, his grin softened, the playful, cocky expression slipping into something more genuine. He raised a hand, waved at you.

“You’re not still jealous, are you?” Cooper nudged your arm. “No,” you lied, trying to sound casual. But the way your chest tightened told a different story. “It’s just… whatever. I don’t care.”

“Sure, you don’t.” He gave you an “i-know-you-know” smile before heading off to join another group of friends, leaving you standing by the pool. Nicholas swam up to where you were standing and rested his arms on the edge, looking up at you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. Water dripped down his face and chest, tan skin catching the yellow garden lights.

“Having fun?” As if the prick hadn’t just been flirting with half the girls at the party a moment ago.“Sure. Looks like you’re having a great time.” Nicholas chuckled, lowering his voice. “If by ‘great,’ you mean having a bunch of people talk at me while I think about how bored I am, then yeah.”

“Right,” you said, not fully believing him. “Looked like you were really bored.” “Is someone jealous?” Your heart jumped—was it that obvious? But you quickly masked it with a dry laugh. “Of those girls? Please.”

“M’kay, cool. So… you planning on actually joining the party, or just standing there sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” you bristled, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because it kind of looks like you are. Pouty, even.”

You knelt down by the edge of the pool, leaning just close enough to point at his nose. “I’m not sulking,”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could’ve been in here with me this whole time.” His smirk softened into something more genuine, and for a split second, you forgot all about the other people around. It was just you and him, the water lapping gently against the poolside, the strum of the party fading into the background. Quick as a viper, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you forward. You tumbled into the pool with a splash, cool water engulfing you.

When you surfaced, spluttering and wiping the water from your eyes, you shot him a dirty look. “Asshole!”

He was laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that made it impossible to stay too mad. Before you could thump him on the shoulder, he pulled you closer, hands settling on your waist as the water swirled around you. “Told you you should’ve joined me,” with that, just as suddenly as he’d pulled you in, Nicholas leaned down and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours, tender yet insistent, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you flush against his soaked body. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm, as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

Hands slid up your sides, fingers skimming along the curves of your waist before one hand moved to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The kiss deepened, and he angled his head slightly. Your mind spun as he pushed forward, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a deliberate slowness, exploring every corner with a sensual, languid rhythm. There was nothing rushed about it—he wanted to take his time, savour the taste of you, to tease. His tongue brushed lightly against yours, coaxing a soft gasp from you as your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself in the dizzying sensation of it all. Your first tongue kiss was with no one other than Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, both of you a bit breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“You’re really not mad, are you?”

part II here

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[rafeys-angel13]

his first time

summary: awkwardly talking inexperienced rafe through sex

warnings: pre existing relationship, sexxx, characters are 18! MDNI!!!

writers notes: i feel like i yapped a bit and ruined it but oh well!

you and rafe have been dating for 4 months now, you never expect to end up with him at all. you always thought he was completely different to you so you didn’t talk to him until you two were paired up for a science project.

tonight, you and rafe are laying on your bed. you’re sitting up against your headboard with rafe between you legs with his head on your stomach, his big hands are playing with your belly bar. he’s quiet but that’s not anything out of the ordinary. you focus on your tv show.

“i wanna show you what i bought today…” you smile and gently remove yourself from under him and stand up. he sits up where you were against the headboard and you grab the shopping bags, walking into your bathroom to change.

you come out in a yellow dress, its about mid thigh length with a halter neck strap. you do a little spin and he smiles.

“that’s pretty…” he says just loud enough for you to hear him.

“should i keep it?” you tilt your head and look at yourself in the mirror.

“yeah… you could wear those white heels with it…” he nods.

“oh yeah! you’re a genius rafe…” you smile and walk into the bathroom again to get changed.

you come out yet again, you’re wearing a corset with a floral design on it. you hadn’t bothered putting pants back on so you’re just in your pink cotton underwear.

he looks up at you and his breath hitches. he nods immediately and swings his legs over this side of the bed, holding his hands out for you. you take his hands and he guides you to stand between his legs. his fingers trace the flowers on the corset, his eyes flickering back up to you, looking up at you through his eyebrows.

“you’re so beautiful, sweetheart…” he whispers and you smile, pecking his lips. he smiles and looks up at you like you’re a literal goddess.

you reach a hand out and stroke his now rosy cheeks, he leans into your touch. his hands now clasped in his lap.

“you can touch me you know… i am your girlfriend…” you smile, teasing him but trying not to embarrass him too much.

“y-yeah, i mean- like- of course i know that” his eyes shift to your chest then your lips then your eyes.

“touch me then, rafe…” you move a step closer, your cleavage right in his face.

he takes a deep breath and rests his hands on your waist.

“there you go…” you smile and run a hand through his hair.

he smiles and you lean down, gently kissing him. he kisses you back softly.

you giggle and pull away, you pulling his face up to look at you with your hand under his chin.

“you wanna take this corset off?” you smile, he nods enthusiastically and kiss his forehead then turn around, pulling your hair over your shoulder so he can reach the back of it.

he gently starts undoing it, he’s being so gentle. despite him being a lot bigger than you, he’s always gentle with you. no matter what.

he slowly pulls it off and you turn around. your perky breasts are right in his face. he doesn’t take his eyes off your face, a soft smile on his face and the rosy colour on his cheeks still persistent.

“do you want to have sex with me, handsome…?” you trail your finger over his jawline.

he nods and you giggle.

“you’ve never done this before, have you?” you straddle his lap.

“no… never… i’ve never been with another girl…” he shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist.

“you can grab me…” you move his hand to your chest.

he squeezes your breasts softly, rubbing his thumbs over your hard nipples.

“there you go…” you nod and he smiles.

he continues circling his thumb around your solid nipple. his lips parting.

“you can suck em…” his face lights up and he leans in, attaching his lips to your right breast, sucking it gently. he swirls his tongue around your nipple.

you moan and grind your core down against his lap. he smiles and pulls away, kissing you.

you kiss him back, grinding down on him as he groans. you trail soft yet hungry kisses down his neck, pulling his shirt over his head.

he hurries to unzip his pants and pull them down with his underwear. he’s dick bounces up and hits his belly button, tip bright red and already leaking glistening precum.

“so pretty… you’re doing so good…” you praise gently, shifting your position on his lap.

“can you do something for me, baby?” you kiss his cheek.

“yeah” he nods and you move to lay down on the bed, he follows you and sits between your legs.

“need you to finger me, baby…” you smile.

“okay, i can do that…” he nods, his face flushing even more.

you let your legs fall apart and he leans forward, attempting to rub your clit but missing it slightly. you reach down and adjust his finger placement and he gets more confident, nodding and continuing do run circles with his thumb.

you moan and drop your head back.

“you’re good, rafey…” you push your hips up. he switches to his other thumb and uses that one, slipping one finger into your tight pussy.

you moan and nod your head, silently telling him he’s doing good.

he slips another finger in and slowly pumps them in and out, making you gasp and moan loudly.

“keep going…” you pant and nod.

“is it okay like this…” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“curl your fingers a little…” you mumble and spread your legs further apart. reaching for his cock, pumping your hand up and down slowly. he grunts lowly and his hips jolt.

“you okay?”

“yeah, perfect” he moans out and pushes himself into your hands.

“you wanna be in me?” you tilt your head. he nods and pushes his swollen tip into your tight cunt. you moan loudly.

he fully sinks in, your desperate pussy sucking him in. he groans loudly and starts thrusting. he grabs your hands and holds them as he thrusts quicker. his hips slap against your butt over and over again.

“i’m gonna cum- fuck” he grunts and speeds his thrusts up.

you moan and lift your hips up and he pulls out, his cock shooting thick white ropes all over your stomach and chest.

you love your hand down and rub your clit to ride out your high.

“you’re so good, rafey… you knew more than i thought you did..” you smile as he lays next to you.

“i’m glad i could please you…” he wraps an arm around you and rests his head on your chest.

“where’d you learn what to do? porn?” you stroke his hair, he nods.

“mostly…”

“you’re coming out of your shell rafey… i’m so proud of you…” you smile and kiss his head, he lifts his head and pecks your lips.

after that night, rafe got more and more skilled and confident during sex and just in day to day life, you’re so smitten with him.

top divider by @uzmacchiato isn’t it so pretty!

[trumanbluee]

you're the one that i want - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 18+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

based on this request! <3

content: three words, baby! the honda odyssey!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: established relationship, no mention of condom (wrap it b4 u tap it!), petnames galore, deadpool is a warning in of himself lol.

a/n: the deadpool brainrot has been so strong recently so thank u guys so much for all ur requests! my return to my deadpool era couldn't have come at a worse time with my exams happening rn but i will try and write as much as i can! love you!

You'd been sitting in the backseat of the "fuck-ass Honda Odyssey", as Wade had described it, arm resting on the centre console, your head propped up on your palm lamely as you turn it left to right, half-listening to Wade and Logan argue like you're at a tennis match.

You'd almost flown forward into the front of the car when it came to an abrupt stop, tyres screeching as you let out a soft yelp in surprise. Wade hears you, and wordlessly pushes you back softly. You'd heard something spat out from Logan, along the lines of "You'll never save the fucking world!", followed by Wade's voice saying, "I'm gonna fight you now." and then the sound of a sickening crunch as he punches Logan in the nose.

It's milliseconds before you see your boyfriend's arm reach back and open your door, gently ushering you out with a soft, "Why don't you go for a walk, pretty girl?"

You know better than to argue, especially with Logan seething in the front seat, so you hop out of the car, shutting the door behind you as you trudge off into the trees, half grateful for being kicked out of the car so you didn't have to listen to Logan's grumbles when you inevitably had to ask him to pull over so you could pee.

You could hear the yelling and grunting in the distance, shaking your head as you hear the faint shatter of glass, followed by a - less than masculine - squeal from your boyfriend. You laughed to yourself, not worried in the slightest as you hear the fighting between the two, Logan's growls echoing through the trees as he squelches his claws into your boyfriend's stomach.

You'd told Wade to give Logan a break, and that eventually he would find out about his 'educated wish', but he hadn't listened, instead continuing to push and push and push Logan until, expectedly, he reached his breaking point.

You wandered around amongst the trees for a while, before slumping against a tree not too far from the car, your eyes growing heavy as you listened to the soft rustle of the leaves above you.

You wake up groggily, looking around the room as you rub sleep from your eyes. You startle when a red suit appears in front of you, but it's not the Deadpool suit that you're all too familiar with.

"I'm Elektra, that's Gambit," the woman points to a man in a helmet, who's stood in the corner, playing with cards, "and that's Blade," she points over her shoulder with her thumb to the man in a long, leather trench-coat.

"I.. uhm.. Hi?" you say, taken aback by this sudden bombardment of strangers.

"We're helping you and your friends get out of the void." Elektra explains, offering her hand to help you stand up. You take it gratefully.

"...Oh, cool..." you say, still groggy from being asleep for so long. "..are.. are they around?"

Elektra nods, pointing outside with her head, "Yellow's by the fire, Red's... around here somewhere."

You nod, thanking her and smiling awkwardly at Blade and Gambit as you walk outside, the smoke from the fire consuming your nostrils as you step out. You spot Logan by the fire, but see that he's sitting with someone.

'She looks an awful lot like that X-23 girl we saw at the TVA.' you think, not ruling out the possibility that it is her with the level of weirdness that had already occurred during your short time in the void. You tread on, looking around before you spot the Honda Odyssey. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you walk to the drivers door of the car, opening it to reveal your boyfriend in the back-seat, pulling his katana's out of the passenger's seat next to you as you plop into the driver's seat.

He looks up when he hears the car door open, and the white eyes of his mask visible soften as he sees you.

"Hey baby," he coos, scooching forward in the back-seat to press a soft kiss to your cheek through his mask as you sit in the driver's seat, peeking over the headrest to look back at him, "was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up, sleepy head."

You smile softly, before taking a moment to look around at the damage done to the car. Your eyes go wide and your hand flies to your mouth, the other reaching back to swat at Wade's shoulder.

"Wade! What the fuck did you two get up to in here? Jesus Christ!"

You hear a whisper of 'Baby Knife!' followed by a soft grunt as Wade pockets another one of his knives.

"Just some good ol' fashioned fightin', baby! I'm kinda sad you missed it, that shit got good!"

You tut, leaning around the driver's seat to look at him as he's hunched over, digging for another one of his knives beneath the seat.

You hear him mumble something along the lines of 'Hate this fuckin' car' before he shoots up, and you can sense his smile through the mask. He leans back in the seats that are in the very back of the car, right leg thrown over one seat, with his other leg spread, suit-clad knee pressing into the fabric of the other. His eyes sharpen as he looks at you, before groaning softly, throwing his head back in a circle, and sighing.

"Fuck, princess, that fightin's gotten me all worked up," he groans, chin pressed to the top of his chest as he looks at you, eyes narrowed.

You feel your thighs rub together at the way he looks at you, the manspreading the cherry on top of a very, very, delicious looking dessert. He chuckles, gesturing to your thighs with his head.

"Saw that, baby." He laughs to himself before he lifts his hand, beckoning you to him with two fingers, his other hand resting on the headrest of the seat in front of him, twiddling Baby Knife between his fingers.

You squirm in your seat before not so agilely climbing over the centre console, crawling over the seat and onto Wade’s lap. He pockets Baby Knife, bringing a hand up to pull the bottom of his mask up, the other settling on your ass as you straddle his waist. 

“Hey doll-face,” he murmurs, smiling and giving your ass a playful squeeze, pulling his mask fully off before placing his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. 

You moan against his lips as you kiss back, his gloved hand giving your ass a firmer squeeze. Wade uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips as you gasp into his mouth. Your hips grind down subconsciously and he pulls away from the kiss, both of your chests rising quickly as you both try and regain your breath from the heated kiss. 

Wade smirks up at you, moving both of his hands to your hips, squeezing softly, pulling a giggle from your lips before he’s engulfing them in another breathless kiss. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on his boner as it tents in his suit, causing him to buck up absentmindedly as he groans into your mouth. Your breathy whimpers vibrate against his lips, and he pulls away, leaning his head back against the headrest behind him. 

“…Fuck, doll-face,” he groans, looking up at you, “ look what you're fuckin’ do to me, baby.” 

He nods down to his dick, almost bursting out of his suit, and your mouth nearly drops open. Wade thinks to himself that if you were in an animé, you’d have heart emojis bulging from your eyes. 

He takes his hands off your hips, crossing his arms behind his head in faux-laziness as he watches you undo the buckle of his belt, slapping the sides of his legs softly, signalling for him to lift his hips. 

“Watch it, doll-face.” Wade warns, half-joking, “Ask me nicely, please.” 

You groan, giving him your ‘are-you-fucking-serious-right-now’ glare as you tug at his belt. He’d been on the receiving end of this look many times in the past, so he’s unfazed as he chuckles dryly, planting his hips down.

 “I can wait, Princess.” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Please, Wade,” you glare at him, “Will you please lift your hips up so I can get your dick out?” 

You add a pout and a flutter of your lashes at the end, and his resolve noticeably crumbles. He huffs, lifting his hips up off the car seat just enough for you to pull down his pants slightly. You dip your hand into his underwear, giving his dick a soft tug before freeing it from the tight pants of his Deadpool suit. 

You gather some spit in your mouth, looking at your boyfriend through your lashes before spitting onto the tip of his cock, using your hand to spread it along his length, squeezing softly around the base. Wade groans from below you, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Fuck, hotstuff, ya’ killin’ me here.” 

Wade hisses as you squeeze a bit harder around his dick, the pretty ring he’d proposed to you with cold against his skin. 

He almost whines, stopping himself by biting his lip, “Oh, c’mon baby, what’d I do to deserve this teasin’, huh? I fought so valiantly against ol’ Wolvie, didn’t I, princess? Don’t I deserve to be treated nicely?” 

Something about the whiny-ness of his tone sends a pang to your heart, and pussy, and you grind down against his thigh absentmindedly before putting both your hands on his shoulders. 

“Help me out, would ya’, Wadey?” you ask sweetly, shimmying your hips slightly to gain his attention. 

His hands fly to your tights, tugging them down your thighs, lifting your legs softly, one by one, and peeling your pants off, leaving you hovering above him in your prettiest pair of panties. You’d been wearing them as a birthday surprise for him, but you’d both been snagged by the TVA before you could put them to good use… until now. 

Wade’s breath hitches from beneath you as his eyes land on your panties, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as his chest heaves. 

“Fuck, doll-face, what’re you all dressed up for?” he says, tracing a gloved hand over the lacy hem of your white panties, pressing a soft kiss to the little blue bow in the middle, before blowing a puff of cool air onto the damp spot beneath it. 

Your legs wobble softly and a shiver runs up your spine, leaving you grateful for your hands planted on your boyfriend's broad shoulders. 

You muster the breath to say, “They’re for you, baby… Well, they were for your birthday…”

He groans softly, pressing a soft kiss to your mound before pushing the thin fabric to the side, swiping a gloved finger through your slick. 

“Shit, baby.. Y’so wet f’me,” he says, voice breathless. “Fuck those stupid fucking day players, keeping my beautiful fiance, and her beautiful fucking panties from me on my birthday. What assholes, hey baby?” He says, pressing his thumb to your clit harshly as he blows another puff of air onto your slick pussy, causing your hips to buck into the air. 

You whine softly, bringing a hand to pump Wade’s cock once again, nodding mindlessly at his question that he knows you didn’t even hear. 

Wade chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest and shooting straight to your cunt, your thighs squeezing around his hand as he thumbs your clit lazily. 

You shuffle yourself forward on his lap, holding onto Wade’s strong shoulder with your hand, the other slowly pumping his cock as you lift yourself up, breathing hitching as you push yourself down onto the tip of Wade’s dick. 

His breath hitches beneath you, rubbing soothing circles on your hips through his gloves as you sink down onto him. His hands grip your hips tighter as he bottoms out, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamp down on his length. 

“Shit, baby, I could blow my load right now.” Wade gasps, head thrown back as his grip tightens on your hips, moving you up and down on his cock. You follow suit with his movements, digging your nails into the fabric of his suit as you leverage yourself on his shoulders, pushing yourself up and slamming yourself down on his cock, a moan slipping from your lips at every drag of his dick along your walls. 

Your hips stutter slightly, and Wade takes this as his cue, moving his hands from your hips to gain a strong grip on your ass, lifting you up and slamming his hips to meet yours. You whine softly, eyebrows knitting together and biting your lip as the soft squelch of your wetness reverberates around the car, your chest heaving with exertion, skin dewy with a thin sheen of sweat. 

You throw your head back, moaning wantonly, one hand coming off of Wade’s shoulder and pressing against the roof of the car. 

“...Shit…Wade!” you stammer as he moves one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing harshly on your clit through his glove.

You slam your hips down to meet Wade's quicker, chasing your high as Wade slams his hips up to meet yours, his head thrown back against the head-rest behind him, eyes closed, as he groans softly.

"C'mon, doll-face," Wade grunts from beneath you, rubbing cruel circles on your clit as he bucks into you, "...y'gonna cum? Can feel you squeezing around me, princess."

You moan softly, babbling something like a 'uh-huh' as your eyebrows knit together, eyes shutting tight as you feel the coil building in your lower belly, threatening to snap any moment.

Wade feels you clamping around him, looking up and watching as you throw your head back, your grip on his shoulder tightening.

"That's it, baby," he groans from under you, pinching at your clit meanly causing you to whimper softly, your head coming forward, forehead resting against his as you grind down onto his cock.

"C'mon, hotstuff, give it to me..." he grunts, feeling his own orgasm coming as you clench down on him like a vice, a string of curse words sputtering from your lips as he feels you gush around him.

"...Shit, baby... Good girl," he coos, fucking you through your orgasm as he cums, soft grunts sounding in your ear as he bucks into you before stilling, stopping the movements of his thumb on your clit, as he lifts you up gently and pulls out. He pulls his hand away from your clit, but not before collecting a part of the mixture of yours and his cum on his gloved fingers, pushing it slowly back in to your drooling pussy. You whine, overstimulated, and he tuts, pushing your panties back into place and pulling your pants back up your legs, leaning back in the seat as you slump against his chest.

He smiles, giving your bum a soft pat and pressing a kiss to your hairline, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I lied, doll-face, the Honda Odyssey fucks, hard.”

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

[starlinggirll]

request for nerd!art alg if u don’t wanna do it

he’s like saying facts about something or trying to tutor the reader and she starts like kissing his neck and stuff while he’s talking and tells him to keep talking and the reader basically just gives him head while he’s yapping sorry haha tysm

you were comfortably resting against his chest, his hand running up and down your back after a long makeout session.

"did you know that tennis balls used to be white? but they changed them to bright yellow so they could be-" his breathing hitched very slightly as you started kissing his cheek, your hand rubbing his scalp. "s-so they could be seen better in television." he murmured, his eyes fluttering.

"yeah? keep talking baby." you giggled, nuzzling into his arms before biting his bicep, licking and sucking at the muscle. "t-the longest match lasted for 11 hours..." he whimpered, squirming slightly as you kissed him before going down inbetween his legs.

you nuzzled your cheek against his clothed dick, nodding at him innocently. his hand goes to your hair, softly stroking your silky strands. "the surface of a court matters-" he whines as you pull down his boxers, his cock springing onto your cheek with a tiny slap. "i-it can be clay or-" he groans, watching as you take his tip into your mouth. "or- oh for fucks sake." he groans, gripping your scalp as you take him into your mouth fully.

"fuck baby.." he whimpers,wrapping his hand around the base of his cock as he pulls it out of your mouth. he loves the sight of you all drooling and needy for him in your mouth. "stick your tongue out," and you do, and he slaps his tip against your tongue. making you giggle, "ahh.."

"art stop ittt." you chase his dick with your mouth, eventually going back to taking him all in. "you look so prettyyy." he mumbles, fisting your hair so he can you in all of your glory. the sight of your eyes gazing up at him makes him cum on the spot.

you gasp, your eyes widening as your mouth is suddenly full of his seed. "shit sorry sorry-" he cups your cheeks, only to see you swallowing everything. not letting a single drop go to waste. "its okay," you whisper, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. "i liked it. it just caught me off guard." you lean in, and he pulls you into his chest, flattening your hair. "sorry." he whispers against your scalp.

but deep down, he would do it again if it meant seeing your cheek full of his white liquid. seeing you swallowing everything down without spilling anything.

god. you're ruining him.

[prael]

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."